


His Dominion Is His Sanctuary

by sciencebluefeelings



Series: His Dominion Is His Sanctuary [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Angst, Bedsharing, Bonding, Deaf Character, Deaf Spock, Dom/sub Undertones, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insomnia, M/M, Mind Meld, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Non-Human Genitalia, Pon Farr, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 45,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24809797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencebluefeelings/pseuds/sciencebluefeelings
Summary: Winona Kirk, CEO of the Galactic Mining Company, is one of the most well-known figures in the alpha quadrant. Her son Jim Kirk will someday be heir to her company and lavish abundance of wealth, but he'd rather be baking pastries.Jim follows his tutor Professor Spock to a bar, intending to try and hook up with him. Instead, Jim finds himself enamored with Spock's older brother, who shares the exact same name as Spock.
Relationships: Gaila & James T. Kirk, James T. Kirk/Original Character(s), James T. Kirk/Spock Prime, minor Leonard McCoy/Spock
Series: His Dominion Is His Sanctuary [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843534
Comments: 39
Kudos: 48
Collections: T’hy’la Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my wonderful artist [punkspockispunkrock](https://punkspockispunkrock.tumblr.com/) for the wonderful illustrations in such a limited amount of time! I also enjoyed all the conversations we shared while working together, now that this is done let's yell about B'elanna >:D
> 
> [Link to the art!](https://punkspockispunkrock.tumblr.com/post/621379874255470592/yet-another-thylabang-piece-for-yall-pls-go-read)
> 
> The biggest thank you to [Yikes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlySlightlyObsessed1/)! I cannot emphasize how much I appreciate your thoughtful commentary and encouragement, not just for the edits and development of this story but also all the silly writing stuff I throw at you. /still so pleased with myself for dragging you into Jim/Spock Prime ;)/
> 
> Special thanks to [wearingmywings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearingmywings/pseuds/wearingmywings) for co-modding the challenge and helping me with my work in progress, and last but not least a special thank you to [museaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/museaway/pseuds/museaway) for making this opportunity possible in the first place!

Jim opens the front door with a bright, insincere grin. “Afternoon, Professor Spock. We finally fucking today or nah?”

The young professor levels Jim with a familiar flat stare before brushing past him. “Such an insistent attitude is better placed in your studies. You would have no difficulty in accomplishing the provided assignments.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jim is still smirking as he closes the door behind him. His attraction to the tall and handsome Vulcan has been as superficial as all his other crushes, but it’s been a nice distraction. Jim’s been trying to get into his pants for the last two months to no avail.

They sit in their regular location together, Jim’s dad’s auxiliary office. “This is satisfactory,” Spock finally says after scanning Jim’s writing for the week. “Are you aware of the works of Sui Dêrcêls? Their research and writing in the development of interplanetary entrepreneurship would provide a valuable source of evidence for your argument.”

As the professor continues his analysis, Jim lets the curious timbre of his voice fill his thoughts. Jim knows tomorrow the professor will be traveling back to teach at his university on Vulcan. It’s the last day he will be tutoring Jim, and Jim’s last opportunity to convince the professor to hook up with him.

The afternoon goes by quickly as it always does. Jim keeps the flirting to a minimum and discusses his readings and notes with the professor. Their time together draws to a close, and Jim doesn’t feel any nervousness as he waits for Spock to finish preparing to leave. Jim makes eye contact with him. “Hey. Share a drink with me tonight?”

Jim can almost see a hint of amusement in the professor's eyes, but his voice is neutral. “I will not be available. I will be celebrating my oldest brother’s birthday.”

Jim purses his lips as he gets up to lead Spock to the front door. “That doesn't sound like a very Vulcan thing to do.”

Spock almost rolls his eyes. “My brother Sybok insists upon it.”

Jim chuckles as he rounds the corner of the hallway, only to be stopped by the hulking frame of Hendorff. “Security watch in the perimeter,” Jim’s bodyguard says, his hand coming between Jim and the professor. “Mr. Kirk must stay inside the house for the next two hours. The professor will see himself out.”

Jim makes an annoyed noise, more out of habit than actual frustration. “Again? God. Fine. Bye, Professor. It was nice meeting you.” Jim sticks his hands in his pockets and resigns to losing the last few seconds of minimal interaction with another real person before being sequestered into isolation once more.

There’s a lull. The professor nods once at Jim. “Live long and prosper, Jim Kirk.” He looks behind him once more at Jim’s lonely figure before he exits through the doorway.

Because of the security watch at the awkward hour, Jim won’t be able to go to his family’s company for work today. He goes down to the gym in the basement and ends up running on the treadmill for miles, distracted by his thoughts.

Jim has always been homeschooled by hired professionals, seldom permitted to leave the confines of whichever mansion they were living in. Once he was determined to be old enough, he had begun work under Winona's direction. Only recently has Jim had time to pursue an education once more. It would be nice to request another tutor for the sake of company, but that’s not what Jim wants.

Jim hops off the treadmill and sticks his tongue out at Hendorff, who is now occupying a corner of the gym. Jim grabs one of the many available towels to wipe off his sweat and the equipment, then checks his comm. He is wholly surprised to see an unread message from Professor Spock. The only messages he gets are from his parents and the occasional angry message from Hendorff asking where Jim has fucked off to without him knowing.

_> > My oldest brother has invited you to join us. Would you be amenable to joining me and my family tonight?_

Jim blinks.

_> > Oh. Wow sure, id love to, Professor. Please say thank you to him for me._

_> > Uh wait_

_> > Does he know about me? Do any of them?_

There is a pause for a moment.

_> > There is a chance Sybok may recognize you, but it is a very minute chance. We were all raised in the Beta Quadrant, not on Vulcan._

_> > Could we say the usual cover for me when we're out in public? Please?_

Jim hates the way he’s treated when people find out he’s rich and famous, much less the son of Winona and George Kirk. It was fun as a kid, getting anything he wanted, but now the things he wants can’t be bought - simple, honest and genuine interpersonal connections. When people already have an impression of Jim, he's even less likely to get those things.

The professor has responded.

_> > Very well. I will do so. _

The professor gives Jim the location and agrees to meet him in front of the restaurant. Jim lets out a breath. Even if he can’t seduce the professor in the end, it’s a nice excuse to get out of the house.

Jim takes his time preparing to leave, checking himself and his comfortably worn long coat in the mirror one last time before approaching the stairwell where Hendorff is waiting. Jim groans. “Do you have to come with me, Cupcake? Can’t I drive myself for once?”

Hendorff watches Jim, silent, broad and intimidating as ever. Jim's already tried the flirting ordeal with this one, and he didn't budge at all.

“You’d better stay out of the way,” Jim threatens. “I don’t want any of them getting even a little bit suspicious of me.”

Hendorff predictably does not respond.

Jim remains apprehensive for the duration of the trip. He keeps watching for any sign of Hendorff as he meets Spock in front of the restaurant. They enter together and Jim follows Spock to one of the booths in the back. Thankfully Hendorff is being acquiescent tonight and staying out of view for the time being. There are already two individuals in the booth, holding drinks and chatting.

“ _Kan_ -Spock,” one bellows, waving Spock over.

“Not a baby,” Spock hisses. “Regulate your volume, Sybok.”

“Younger brother,” the other says with a hint of glee, rising to greet the professor. Before Jim has time to feel overwhelmed, Spock introduces Jim to Michael and Sybok, his older sister and brother.

Spock gestures to Jim. “This is my student that I have mentioned to you before. Tiberius Wimpole.”

Spock isn't lying. It’s Jim’s middle name, which is obscure, and his mother's maiden name, which is even more obscure. It’s the name he uses when he’s trying to stay low in public.

Jim ducks into the booth with Spock, grateful that the restaurant is relatively empty. The professor explains Jim is a graduate student studying business administration. Another not-quite lie.

“Your choice of earrings suit you very well,” Michael comments with bright eyes.

Jim is thankful his dark skin color hides his easy blush from the compliment. “Thank you.” He falls into easy conversation with Michael, who is a starship captain. That had been Jim’s dream job as a child. Michael is eager to talk to Jim about her work and Jim's own research while the professor complains to Sybok.

The professor says, “We all have several more important tasks that we could be attending to at this moment.”

“The occasional celebration never hurt anyone,” Sybok says, lifting his drink. “Chocolate liqueur, _kan_ -Spock?”

“No.”

Sybok goes into some abstract tirade about the benefits of merriment on the mind. Michael looks wholly amused. Jim assumes based on her reaction that Sybok’s argument is solely for putting a slightly pained look on the young professor’s face. Then Jim is distracted by a soft light pink shade in the corner of his eye.

He stares up at broad shoulders framed inside a fluffy pink sweater and dark, wavy hair with greying temples. There are conspicuous hearing aids in both ears.

“You’re late,” the professor complains.

The newcomer smiles with his eyes and slides into a seat across from Jim, accepting touches of greeting from Michael and Sybok. His voice is rich and thrilling. “Miss me that much, _kan_ -Spock?”

Jim is delighted to see the professor’s aloof aura immediately dissipate as he splutters in response. “Jim,” Michael says, grasping Jim’s shoulder. “This is our older brother Spock. Spock, this is Tiberius.”

Those warm, smiling eyes are already focused on Jim. “Hello. You are Spock’s student?”

Jim is finding it hard to form words with that charming face directed at him. “Y-yes. Thanks so much again for inviting me.”

“Thank you for joining us.” Older Spock offers a handshake, only for the professor to slap his hand aside. Michael laughs heartily and Sybok catcalls as the professor spits something out in what Jim assumes is Vulcan, he’s not sure. Older Spock looks smug amidst the chaos. Jim watches the four of them banter, fascinated. He has no siblings of his own. It looks simultaneously wholly entertaining and infuriating.

The bar is vegetarian, and the server brings food that Michael had already ordered. “It’s all on me,” Sybok says, holding out his second drink. “Cheers, _sa-kai_. Fifty-three Standard years old!”

Jim sputters, turning towards Older Spock. “Fifty-three? I thought you were in your thirties, forties at most.”

“ _Kan_ -Spock still looks younger than the students he instructs,” Older Spock points out, his eyes twinkling. A laugh escapes Jim before he realizes it.

“You exaggerate greatly about my appearance,” is the immediate retort. Older Spock just raises an eyebrow at his younger brother. Every time Older Spock’s eyes crescent as he smiles, Jim feels his body drawing closer to him.

“This is the first time we have been able to celebrate the occasion in nine years,” Michael observes.

Older Spock says something in Vulcan. “Because of my work,” he adds. “The timing was never right.”

“What do you do?” Jim asks.

Sybok clears his throat, a little too loudly. Jim blinks. Older Spock’s eyes dart from Jim to Sybok. “Freelancing,” Older Spock finally says, still eyeing Sybok. It’s about as ambiguous as one could be.

“Sybok does not like to talk about _sa-kai's_ work,” the professor explains in a low voice to Jim.

“Oh, okay.” Jim sits back a little, perplexed. It’s a strange thing for Sybok to be touchy about. Older Spock looks normal enough.

Now Jim can’t help noticing that the other siblings are sitting around Older Spock, as if to guard him from the other patrons of the restaurant. They move aside easily enough when he goes to the bathroom, but whenever he is within reach they all protectively lean towards him. If Older Spock is aware of the phenomenon, he makes no mention of it as he smiles and teases.

Michael has gotten up to retrieve more condiments, and Jim’s heart leaps to his throat as Older Spock slides next to him, taking Michael’s space. “You are a graduate student?”

“Uhh, sorta?”

“How can one be only sort of a university student?” Spock is still smiling at him. His bangs are fringed with pepper silver hair that matches the color of his temples. It’s devastatingly charming.

“I'm working on a thesis, but I study at, uh, at home.” Jim falters as he realizes Spock’s attention is concentrated on Jim’s mouth.

Spock waits for Jim to elaborate. Jim’s eyes flicker and he internally smacks himself, he’d completely forgotten about Spock’s hearing aids. Was it hard to hear Jim in the restaurant ambiance? Was there a problem with his pronunciation? Their booth wasn’t that dimly lit, so that can’t be the problem. Aren’t Vulcans touch telepaths? Come to think of it, the other siblings have kept their hands above the table and within reach of Spock the entire evening. Spock has occasionally been resting his hand on top of the person speaking.

“Should I-” Jim offers an outstretched hand, his dark skin contrasting with the light grey tabletop. Spock blinks. Flustered, Jim hastily adds, “Let me know how I can help you. When we’re talking.”

Comprehension washes over Spock’s expression. “Currently I do not need the additional aid of my telepathy, but I prefer to clearly hear voices whenever I can and it is not something I am able to do often.”

“So you only do that with your siblings because you’re close?” Jim asks, curious.

“Yes,” Spock confirms. “Due to our touch telepathy, skin contact is a practice shared only between consenting individuals that are familiar with one another. To do otherwise would be discourteous, even violative.”

“I didn't know that.” Jim looks at Spock's beautiful hands in a new light. “But you can control it, can't you?”

“Yes, generally a shield is maintained in public as most Vulcans are proximity telepaths to some degree. Receiving perpetual stray thoughts from others becomes exhausting. Also, it is the courteous thing to do.” Spock pauses when he sees Jim has not retracted his hand. “It is unusual that you would offer so easily.”

“Why's that?”

“Every non-psi individual I have met is apprehensive that I will intrude on their inner thoughts and feelings.”

Jim slides his hand closer. “But you can control that. I’m cool with it. I trust you.”

“This is wholly unnecessary, but I appreciate it very much.” Spock’s eyes crescent as he rests his broad palm on top of Jim’s knuckles. Jim’s stomach flutters.

Michael has long since returned, and she perks up seeing Spock and Jim together. “Sybok, look. They are already holding hands.”

“ _Sa-kai_ is single,” Sybok says with a serious expression. “Other than his shitty-ass job, he is an excellent catch.” Jim's stomach sparks at this newfound knowledge.

“I am too old for a handsome young man like Tiberius,” Spock says with ease.

“Not that young,” Jim interjects. “I’ll be turning twenty-nine in four months.”

Spock looks startled by the information. Sybok adds something incomprehensible, probably something in Vulcan and downright lewd based on the way Michael bursts out laughing while Spock protests and Professor Spock recoils.

Michael adds something in Vulcan and laughs harder. Sybok replies in Vulcan and cackles. “You two should go play strip poker or some variant.”

“Oh.” Jim laughs even as he feels his face heating up. “Oh god, no. Playing poker with a Vulcan sounds like a death wish. Also, I’m terrible at poker. Maybe I’ll say yes to strip chess.”

“You play chess?” Spock turns towards him, interested.

Sybok makes an exaggerated groaning sound. “These two will not stop talking about chess if you start,” he says, pointing to both Spocks, one at a time.

Jim rubs his neck. “Yeah, I do play chess. I love it. I haven’t been playing as much recently though, so I’m pretty out of practice. You’d beat me in no time flat.”

“Then I’d better play you now, while I am at an advantage.” Older Spock nudges his shoulder into Jim’s arm and winks, twisting Jim’s insides. “What has occupied your interests then, if you are not practicing chess?”

“Baking. Oh my god, I should’ve made you a birthday cake. Do you like sweet potato cake?”

“I have an inclination for Terran sweet potato,” Spock says with a smile.

“And here I thought Vulcans can’t have favorites,” Jim shoots at Professor Spock with a grin. He looks back at Older Spock. “It’s my favorite kind.”

“Speaking of favorites.” Michael waves at someone. “Look who has arrived. Leonard!” Michael stands up, and Jim's eyes widen upon seeing an intimidating, devastatingly attractive man stomping towards them.

“Long time seein’ y’all in the same room.” The man hugs Michael with a blinding smile. “I’m here to save my husband.”

The professor gets up with a scowl. “I texted you thirty eight point four eight oh minutes ago.”

“I’m a doctor, not fucking Moses. Let me know how to part the sea of traffic congestion and then I’ll pick you up on time.” The handsome man notices Jim and offers a human handshake. “Hey. Leonard McCoy.”

“Uh, Tiberius. Hi.” Jim returns the handshake, and sees the glint of a marriage band on McCoy’s other hand. “Married?” Jim asks, more confused than bewildered.

McCoy holds out his arm as the professor tucks into his side. “It’s our twelve year anniversary in two months, right darling?”

Jim’s hand hovers in the air as he directs a dirty glare at the professor. “And you let me hit on you this entire time?”

The professor has the same bland, neutral expression that he wears before ripping into one of Jim’s shitty papers without mercy. “I determined the only way to engage Tiberius in his studies was to create the impression that his efforts would be rewarded.”

Jim scowls. “You lied!”

“He implied,” Older Spock says with a wink.

Jim swivels to face him, scowling. “Not you too, asshole.” Older Spock grins, and Jim can’t exactly stay disgruntled seeing that adorable smile.

The professor kisses McCoy on the cheek, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. “Intervention seemed unnecessary, as the comments had no genuine intention in them.”

“Fucker. I know you like the attention.” McCoy’s smile was genuine but he kept a possessive hand on the professor’s lower back. Jim can't help a pang of envy seeing the two married men in intimate conversation with one another. Twelve years - Jim's longest relationship didn't even last twelve months. They make their relationship look so effortless.

“Stay a little longer and join us, Doctor,” Sybok urges.

“I appreciate it, but I'd better take Professor Grumpy home. It’s his bedtime.” McCoy brushes at the professor's neat bangs with a fond look, and Jim bites his lip.

The couple says goodnight and exit the restaurant. Sybok says something in Vulcan and Michael stands up, having checked the time. “My wife is expecting me home soon as well. Goodnight, everyone.” Michael smiles at Jim. “Tiberius, it was nice to meet you.”

Michael gets up from the table, leaving Sybok, Jim and Older Spock, who has politely declined drinks all evening. He had explained that he drove here and will have to take his car back to his hotel tonight.

“Speaking of driving,” Sybok says suddenly, picking up his buzzing comm. “My taxi is here.”

“Sybok!” Older Spock says, stunned.

Sybok stands and smirks at Jim. “Nice to meet you, Tiberius. And _sa-kai_ -” Sybok says something to Older Spock in Vulcan, who makes a scoffing noise of disbelief. With a final grin, Sybok disappears out the door.

Jim sees how nervous Older Spock looks being alone with him, and it helps soothe Jim's own pounding heart. “They're all so nice,” he says, touching his fingers to Spock's knuckles. “I'm glad I could meet you all. Professor Spock's partner included.”

“I hope you are not too devastated to discover my younger brother is a taken man,” Older Spock says a little too casually.

Jim blinks. “Hm?”

Older Spock breathes out. “You are attracted to him. My younger brother. It is not an uncommon occurrence.”

“Oh, no. I mean - yeah, but - when I saw him with his husband, I was thinking about something else.” Jim smiles, more wistful than genuine.

“Of course,” Spock agrees, obviously not believing Jim.

“Besides,” Jim adds, “My type is more - um. Smiley.” _Smiley? God._

Before Jim can internally berate himself, Spock laughs aloud with delight. Shit. If Jim wasn't smitten before, hearing Spock laugh for the first time has converted Jim into an absolute goner. He stares at the dimple next to the corner of Spock's grinning lips and wants to kiss it.

“I suppose that certainly is a distinguishing factor between us two. That reminds me of a story,” Spock says before launching into an amusing anecdote about Sybok and Michael and a friend from university. Afterwards they talk about how they got into chess. Jim listens with rapt attention to Spock's story about a bet over chess between him and Younger Spock. It had ended with Younger Spock doing the dishes for three months. Jim would’ve loved to see _that._

Spock discreetly checks his comm. “I apologize, I have already taken several hours of your time.”

“Oh, wow.” Jim blinks seeing the numbers on his watch. “I had no idea.”

“If you have somewhere to be, please don't let me keep you from it, Tiberius.”

Spock begins to check the seats for any stray belongings, and Jim panics seeing Spock getting ready to leave. He closes his fingers around Spock's hand tighter and blurts, “I don't have to go anytime soon. Actually -” Jim bites his lip, feeling the rush of adrenaline as his words barrel forwards. “I'm sorry if I'm reading this wrong, but I'd like to spend more time with you?”

Spock is speechless. Then his gaze becomes accusatory. “You must be more inebriated than I realized.”

“Not really. I'll walk a straight line for you now. Want me to do it?” Spock huffs out something that sounds like a laugh. Jim inches closer. “Why’s it so difficult for you to believe I want you?”

“I am not nearly as attractive as my younger brother,” Spock murmurs. “You have chosen a poor substitute.”

“Spock. Your brother has nothing to do with this.” Jim wraps his fingers a little tighter around Spock’s, refusing to look away. “Search my feelings. I'm telling the truth.”

Spock stares at their hands, at their point of connection.

“Invite me back to your place,” Jim urges. “I'll say yes.”

Spock’s gaze is sharp on Jim’s again. Jim is startled by the foreign sensation of a telepathic strand curling from Spock to Jim’s mind, projecting tightly coiled desire desperate for release.

Jim pulls Spock from his seat, grabbing his coat without bothering to put it on. Spock leads the way to the parking lot. It gives Jim an incomprehensible feeling, walking pressed right behind Spock’s shoulder, fingers entwined in his. Fuck. What’s going on right now? Is this a one night stand? What else could it be? Jim doesn’t want to let go of Spock after one night. He doesn't know how to handle this feeling. What does Spock want, though?

As if in response to Jim’s sudden spike of anxiety, there’s a sudden sensation of vertigo as Spock whips Jim around to press his back to the car. “Oh, shit,” Jim manages to say before his mouth is thoroughly and expertly ravished by soft lips and a rasping, slightly cooler tongue. Spock tastes clean and sweet and tart like the lemonberry sorbet he’d shared with Michael for dessert.

Jim is panting by the time they finally break apart, but Spock’s isn’t even breathing hard. Jim nearly lets his coat slip through his fingers and grasps at it again. “Not bad for an old man,” he chokes.

Spock’s voice is very smug. “Unlike humans, Vulcan libido increases with age.” He’s rubbing his fingers against Jim’s palm in slow, sensual motions. Jim attempts reciprocating the gesture and Spock’s breath hitches. Jim raises an eyebrow.

“This is the Vulcan equivalent of a human kiss.” Spock’s tanned fingers wrap around Jim’s, exploring the skin between each digit.

Jim laughs, incredulous. “Oh, god. You were letting me kiss you in front of your family that entire time? No wonder they were reacting the way I did.”

“I am only half-Vulcan. They can disregard my choice of actions this once.” Spock grinds a thigh between Jim’s legs before abruptly stepping back. With the sudden absence of his support, Jim has to lean on the car to stay upright. “We should depart now,” Spock says.

Jim glares at Spock, who is looking back with humor sparkling in his eyes. “Oh, you fucker. Just wait until I get my hands on you again, and then we’ll see who’s laughing.” Jim huffily puts his coat on and slumps in the passenger seat.

“Seatbelt,” Spock says, putting his own on and turning the car on.

“Gonna be the longest fucking car ride ever,” Jim complains. His legs still feel numb and he wants to taste Spock again. Spock chuckles as he pulls the car out of the parking lot.

The car interior is pleasantly warm, and the muted sounds of wind seep through the windows. Jim breathes in slowly, still feeling his heart pounding. Spock slides a hand across to Jim’s leg, resting it on his upper thigh. Jim lowers his hand above Spock’s, and grins when he sees Spock’s smile grow.

They’re now traveling down a highway Jim is familiar with. With the combination of heat and the sound of Spock’s soft breathing, Jim feels himself relaxing further into his seat, his hand still over Spock’s.

“This car is following us,” Spock says suddenly, startling Jim.

“Who - what?”

“A black sedan,” Spock says, focused on the rear mirror. “Tiberius - are you in any danger? Do you know who that individual could be?”

Fuck. With the magical events of tonight, Jim had completely let his bodyguard drop from his mind. Jim internally curses Hendorff as he twists to try and get a glimpse of the familiar black car. “How do you know they're following us?”

“I simply reduced my speed. All of the other cars have driven past us. This car has dropped its speed to match ours.”

Jim tamps down his expression, trying to keep it neutral. “Can you lose it?”

“I can.” Spock checks his mirrors again. Jim feels the slight acceleration and watches Spock's keen gaze flicker. Spock carefully navigates around a big rig on the road in front of them.

Jim blinks as Spock navigates around a second large truck, exiting the highway with several other cars. Hendorff is nowhere to be seen.

“That's impressive,” Jim says with a wavering voice. It was almost too easy, how Spock managed to shake Hendorff, an experienced professional. A wisp of suspicion is beginning to fester in the back of Jim's mind. “How did you do that, Spock?”

“It is very simple. I could show you how to do so.” Something tells Jim it's not quite as Spock is portraying it, but he decides to drop it for now.

They park at what looks like a remote bed and breakfast, small and neatly kept. Spock guides Jim to the front lobby.

“Welcome back, Mr. Spock.” The human woman at the desk stands to greet them before freezing at the sight of Jim.

Jim’s heart rate elevates. He sticks out his hand and blurts, “Tiberius Wimpole. Nice to meet you.” He hopes with acute desperation the woman can see the unsaid plea in his eyes.

The woman finally reciprocates the handshake, her expression shifting. “Una.”

“Una is very graciously offering me extended residence at her establishment.” Spock holds out his card to Una. “He is with me.” Una silently takes the card, and Jim breaths a small sigh of relief. He tries to stay as small as possible next to Spock as he completes the transaction and guides Jim away.

Spock stops at the door marked with a privacy door hanger and inserts the key card. The room is well furnished but it doesn’t feel cramped at all. It smells of fabric softener and coconut. Spock freezes. “I apologize, if I had known earlier I would have taken the time-” Spock’s voice trails off as he rushes to pick up a couple garments of clothing off various pieces of furniture. Jim grins at the sight of the unmade bed. It makes the room look softer, more lived in.

For all his effort to pick up the clothing, Spock leaves them in a messy pile in a laundry basket before navigating to the closet and opening a couple drawers. “It would be optimal to complete this before we proceed.” He is holding a medicorder, a rather low-quality model. Or maybe Jim’s just used to the expensive, state of the art versions. Spock scans himself and offers it to Jim, and the readings show a clean bill of health. “There is protection in the drawer if you would prefer it.”

Jim also scans himself and hands the medicorder and his own readings back to Spock. “I’m good if you are.” He hesitates. “Although-”

“Yes?”

“You would have to show me - what I should do. I’ve never had sex with a Vulcan before.”

Jim feels strong fingers under his chin, bringing his lips to Spock's. Spock leans back with a slight smirk. “That will be amended by the end of tonight.” Spock rests his arms around Jim's shoulders and nuzzles his neck. “I will show you how to bring a Vulcan the most effective sexual pleasure.”

Jim laughs as Spock mouths at his jawline with the slightest hint of teeth. “I’ll hold you to that.” He tries thrusting his hips forward a little, and Spock bites harder. Jim hums and runs his hands down Spock’s shoulders. “God, you look so cute.”

Spock pauses, and Jim keeps rubbing his hands over the texture of the sweater. Spock smiles at Jim with his eyes. “You have a preference for this sweater?”

“Oh, yeah. Pink’s my favorite color. But I think I’d prefer you without it on right about now.” Jim attempts to remove Spock's sweater, only to be stopped by a gentle touch. “You may use the shower first.” Spock pushes him in the direction of the bathroom door.

“Oh. You go ahead first. I can wait.”

“I insist.” Spock shyly pushes Jim again. “I will take longer.”

Jim relents. “Do you have something I could borrow to wear?”

He watches Spock pick out a bathrobe and boxer shorts. “You are welcome to anything in the drawers,” Spock offers.

Jim nods and closes the door. He tosses aside his clothing and watch and turns on the shower, nearly burning himself from the scalding temperature of the water. Jim stares at billowing steam as he waits for cooler water to run. His gaze trails to a single shelf nearby piled with various supplies. Fuck, that’s definitely a shiny black butt plug next to the soap. If Jim wasn't getting hard before, he is now.

Jim ignores his growing erection and washes carefully before making use of one of the wrapped complimentary toothbrushes. He dresses in Spock's clothes and exits the bathroom.

Spock grazes a kiss on Jim's cheek before he disappears inside. Jim waits until the bathroom door is completely closed before locating Spock’s keycard. He takes a moment to look fondly at the now-tidy room before exiting to the hallway.

He rushes down to the front lobby where Una is still behind the desk. She is now in deep conversation with a man wearing a similar uniform. Una glances up at Jim. “Pike, he’s here.”

Jim stops in front of them, unsure of how to proceed. Pike looks him up and down with a raised eyebrow and protective stance. “Jim Kirk in our lowly little bed and breakfast, huh? What do you want with Spock?”

Jim’s breath rushes out of him. “Please don’t tell him. I promise - I only want to be with him.” Jim cringes at the word choice. “As a man to another man. Uh, no, I meant - around him, I’m not someone who’s supposed to act a certain way. I’m not a person he has preconceived notions of.” Initial nervousness gone, Jim is now moving closer to the desk until he is leaning over it. “Please, you need to understand. This isn’t something I get very often. I want to be - ordinary for a night.”

Pike and Una glance at each other. Pike finally looks back at Jim. “We are prohibited from disclosing confidential information about our patrons.”

Una still has a warning glance trained on Jim, but he feels relief like never before. “Thank you, both of you. Also-” Jim slips out his own card, the one he uses with a censored pseudonym. “I would appreciate it very much if you put my own expenses under my tab. Along with all of Spock's expenses. Everything including his future purchases.”

Pike raises his eyebrows as he takes the card. “I’m assuming you want us to keep this under wraps as well?”

“Please. Thanks so much.” Jim’s face is hot from embarrassment, but he refuses to back down.

“Spock does not appear the type to be impressed with such gestures,” Una comments casually.

Jim sighs. “What little I can do for him, anything, I want to do it.”

Pike huffs out a laugh as he returns the card and looks at Una. “I think I can understand that feeling.”

Jim returns swiftly to the room, and is relieved to hear the shower still running. He replaces the key card before removing the bathrobe, setting it aside. Jim lowers the lights and gets on the delightfully comfortable bed, feeling another pang of nervous energy. The anticipation makes him want to get back up and pace.

Instead Jim settles further into the sheets and uses the room's PADD to pull up a chess app. He focuses on the virtual board, trying not to think about the time ticking by.

Jim is in the middle of his first game when the light flooding from the opening bathroom door snaps him to attention. Spock leans against the doorframe, lithe and flushed and completely naked.

Jim drops the PADD and slides off the bed, not looking away from Spock. His eyes drag over sleek muscle and the hair of his chest trailing down his stomach. He has no external genitalia, and his sheath is flushed darker than the rest of his body. The hair near his slit already looks damp with slick.

Jim tries to advance forward, but Spock pushes back a little. Jim raises his eyebrows and plants his hands on Spock's bony waist. “What, you wanna play like that?” He slams the taller Vulcan back against the wall.

Spock easily counters the move, and Jim finds Spock crushing him against the wall with a bruising kiss. Jim manages to flip Spock back around, but Spock breaks free and escapes to the middle of the room, his eyes sparkling.

“The fuck?” Jim says, mystified. “Are you sure your job isn't, like, martial arts or something? How did you do that?” Somehow, every time Jim gets his hands on Spock, Spock slips from his grasp. He doesn't attempt to stop Jim's unrelenting pursuit, but his amusement is growing.

“Fucking - stop right there,” Jim growls as he finally crowds a laughing Spock against the wall again. Jim's hand wraps over the space between Spock's legs, squeezing slightly. Spock gasps, and he stops struggling.

Jim pauses. “Tell me to stop.”

Spock makes eye contact with Jim. His eyes are even darker than before, black with arousal. “No.”

Jim puts a little more pressure into the touch. “Tell me to stop.”

“There is no need to stop.” For the first time since Jim has met Spock, Spock’s breath is starting to quicken. Jim lets his hand drift down further, feeling the unfamiliar anatomy. His fingers freeze over the silky hard feeling of silicone.

Spock groans as Jim tugs at the flared base of the butt plug. Something snaps inside Jim. He grabs Spock's groin and squeezes hard, too hard. Spock makes a noise of pure lust, and Jim's mind goes blank. He drags Spock towards the bed, but grabs him before the backs of his legs can touch the blankets.

Jim shoves Spock down to his knees, stretching Spock's arms above him to press them to the bed. Spock stays pliant under his forceful actions, but Jim can feel his restrained strength in every movement. Spock had made it clear through his easy display of super strength and skill. He is allowing Jim to pin him down. And it's driving him fucking crazy.

Jim pulls down the band of his underwear and lets his cock brush over Spock's face. Spock’s lips are parted in a silent plea. Jim presses the tip of his cock to those soft lips, and groans at the sensation of a rough tongue flicking out to taste him.

Jim thrusts further inside the tight, rough heat, watching Spock open his mouth wider to accommodate his girth. Jim braces his legs around Spock to push him further back, forcing his cock down Spock's throat. He doesn't register Spock's noises of discomfort until Spock abruptly pulls away, gagging and out of breath. Jim snaps to his senses immediately, arousal dissipating like mist. “Fuck.”

Spock grabs Jim’s thighs, preventing him from moving any further back. “Do not stop.” Spock pulls Jim's boxers fully down, encouraging him to step out of them. “The safeword I will use is ‘red’. If I cannot speak, I will signal you.” Spock holds up a hand with the fingers outstretched and pressed together.

Jim’s loss of control still has him shaken. “Red. Okay. I got it. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“I am not fragile, Tiberius.” The false name only serves to further distract Jim from the developing mood, and it’s clear Spock can sense it. Spock gets to his feet, pulling Jim onto the bed after him. Spock gently encourages Jim to sit across him, then props himself back on the piled pillows at the headboard, exposing the black base of the butt plug. “You said you were amenable to a practical exhibition of the Vulcan’s erogenous zones.” Jim can’t help smiling at Spock’s bashful tone, and settles between Spock’s spread legs, waiting expectantly.

Spock rolls his erect nipples between his fingers, pinching and plucking the buds. He sighs and arches his back, squirming into the stimulation. One hand drifts down to tease at the folds of his sheath before trailing back up to circle a swollen nipple. Spock pinches hard and the muscles of his thighs clench.

“Fuck,” Jim breathes. “Could you come, just like that?”

“I have before.” Spock finally removes his hands from his chest to spread his slit with two fingers, tilting his hips for Jim to see easier. There’s an inner slit inside, and his cock is unsheathed and protruding between the folds, smaller than a human's.

“It presents like this in a fully aroused state.” Spock flicks at the tip of the cock and gasps. Slick is leaking from the inner sheath. “The inner walls here - these glands that produce lubrication are the most sensitive erogenous zones.”

“And the plug?”

Spock removes his hands from himself. “I am half human. You will find the internal anatomy functionally identical to the male reproductive system.” Spock grunts as Jim plays with the flared base again. “You appear particularly captivated by this implement,” he manages to say.

Jim hopes the rough, open mouthed kiss conveys what he thinks. Spock shivers and presses his mouth to Jim's again, deepening the angle of contact. Jim pushes Spock flat on the bed, and Spock tugs at Jim’s wrists. “Touch me,” he demands.

Jim relocates Spock’s hands back above his head, pressing them together. “Only if these stay right here. Move your arms and I stop.”

“Yes,” Spock breathes immediately, twisting his hands together above his head, obediently waiting for Jim’s next move. Jim kneels back for a moment to marvel at the view of Spock’s prone body. His inner thighs are almost coated with wetness now. Jim runs his hands over Spock's chest, feeling the dense muscle twitch.

“Tiberius,” Spock says impatiently.

“Where’s all that famous Vulcan willpower?” Jim drags a tongue over one of Spock’s already swollen nipples, relishing Spock’s stifled moan. Jim blows over the bud, then focuses his attention on the other nipple. His actions are slowly growing bolder again. Jim drags his teeth over a nipple and Spock arches into the touch.

Heart racing, Jim kisses down Spock’s stomach, breathing over his slick groin. Spock’s legs attempt to close around Jim’s head, and Jim roughly pushes them back further apart. A fresh gush of arousal escapes, and Jim sticks his fingers into the mess, exploring its texture.

Spock cries out as Jim pushes one leg further back, probing at the slick pooling inside his slit and all over the bed. “Please,” Spock begs, his hands grasping at the blankets above him.

“Please? Please what?” Jim thrusts his tongue into the slit spread between his fingers, massaging the head of the smooth cock, and whatever Spock’s reply was going to be trails off into incoherent whimpers. Jim dips his head further down into the musky sweetness. His hand comes back up to tweak one of Spock’s nipples, and Spock falls silent, tensing around Jim’s head. The cock slips back inside the inner slit, and Jim blinks. “Spock?”

Spock’s head falls back onto the mattress, breathing hard with his eyes still closed. “You have - a very talented tongue.”

“Yeah?” Jim tickles Spock’s nipple with the tip of his tongue before giving his chest an aggressive bite. Spock hisses, but he keeps his arms where they are. Jim bites Spock again before laving at the bruise with his tongue. “Turn around. I’m gonna fuck another orgasm out of you.”

Spock immediately gets on his stomach, tilting his hips up. Jim presses the small of his back down with the heel of his palm. He pulls the butt plug free without warning, and Spock muffles his groan into his arm.

Jim drags his hand up through Spock’s slick, rubbing it on Spock’s entrance and his own leaking cock. Spock tries to move his hips up again, and Jim shoves Spock down with a warning bite to his neck. Spock immediately goes pliant. Jim bites Spock hard again on the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “Don’t.” He spreads Spock’s thighs with his knees to prevent him from moving again. “Lie still. I’m gonna make you feel this tomorrow.”

Jim presses into the incredible tightness, and it’s all he can do to not come right then and there. He doesn’t stop until he’s fully inside Spock. When he regains composure, Jim slides out and pushes back inside Spock, causing them both to groan loudly. Jim thrusts into Spock harder, speaking low in his ear. “I’m gonna make you feel it, every time you stand or walk or sit.”

Spock grunts as he is pushed a little further up the mattress. “Vulcans have a faster rate of healing than humans.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to fuck you harder.” Jim punctuates every other word with a roll of his hips, relishing Spock’s tiny gasp each time. Jim rests his body on Spock, fucking with tight, maddening thrusts. His hand slips under Spock’s body to rub his fingers inside Spock’s slit. He can feel the cock protruding from the inner sheath again.

Spock desperately tries to clench his thighs together, tries to thrash away from Jim’s insistent strokes. Jim feels him struggle, and like before, Jim knows he is more than capable of escaping, yet he remains trapped under Jim’s encompassing stance. Spock curses as Jim’s fingers find one of the swollen, slick glands and presses hard against its side, releasing profuse arousal. Jim keeps a sharp eye on Spock’s hands as he brings the other hand to aggressively stimulate the other gland inside Spock’s slit, but Spock’s hands stay tightly fisted in the sheets.

Jim releases his grip and slips out of Spock. Before Spock can protest, Jim encourages Spock on his back, pushing apart his thighs. Spock braces his hands against the headboard as Jim pushes inside again with no finesse whatsoever. He watches Spock’s clenched jaw and heaving chest with wide eyes. He wants to see Spock’s face when he orgasms this time.

Jim adjusts his angle and rolls his hips brutally. Spock cries out and clenches around him. His back arches clear off the blankets as his slick drips over Jim’s cock, still thrusting, urging Spock through his aftershocks. Jim will never forget that expression for as long as he lives.

Spock finally recovers from the climax, still gasping for breath. “Have you achieved orgasm yet?”

“I’m close,” Jim pants. “So close.”

“On me,” Spock begs, his hands on Jim’s hips. Jim complies and pulls out, and with Spock’s hand over his, he strokes himself to climax and comes messily all over Spock’s lips and upper body.

Jim looks down at Spock’s blissful expression and his chest feels too tight. He wipes gingerly at Spock’s face before giving up and going to the bathroom to wet a towel. He sits pressed close to Spock and wipes the fluids from his face, his torso and arms.

Spock sighs as Jim spreads his knees and carefully cleans the viscous slick between his legs and inner thighs. Jim gently massages the muscles there, working his way down to the ankles and back up. The bruises and bites Jim left are darker and more numerous than he realized, and the guilt festering in his stomach grows. “Are you in any pain? Should I get a dermal regenerator?”

Spock tugs at Jim. “That is unnecessary. Lie down with me.”

Jim resists. “Is there anything you want? Water? Food?”

“I do not require such attention,” Spock says drowsily.

Jim’s voice is small. “I just feel like I need to apologize.”

Spock’s eyes become more alert as he sits up to look at Jim. “Was there not mutual pleasure derived from the act?”

“There - you’re not wrong.” Jim gently rubs a thumb on the particularly prominent bruising around Spock’s left nipple before bowing his head again. “I don’t know what happened. I’ve never forced myself on someone like this before.”

Spock leans forward and deliberately kisses Jim, firm but chaste. His eyes are intently focused on him. “I’ve never desired to submit to another this strongly before.”

Jim makes a rough sound in his throat. “Fuck, don't say shit like that.”

“Why not?”

Jim pins Spock back down on the mattress. “I won’t be able to stop myself from holding you down again.”

“You are already doing so,” Spock observes. He raises an eyebrow.

Jim chokes out a laugh, but sobers seeing another bite on Spock’s neck that nearly drew blood. “Are you sure you don’t need a dermal regenerator?”

Spock lays a hand on Jim’s with an affectionate smile. _Yes, Tiberius. I am sure._

Jim nods reluctantly, pulling back and wincing at the stickiness of his sweat and come on his skin. “I’m going to take a sonic shower real quick.”

 _I will join you._ They put the top blanket in the cycler together before going into the bathroom. Spock realizes Jim is watching him put the butt plug into a separate cycler and gives him a wink. Jim can’t help laughing at the ridiculous expression, and Spock looks pleased.

Jim can’t resist slipping his hands over Spock’s body as they stand under the rough force of the sonics together. He’s still feeling strange, almost like he’s watching his body as an outsider. He remembers how Spock struggled under his grasp, his control. He can’t help wondering, what sort of life does Spock lead on a daily basis that such a powerful figure would desire to be completely helpless under the care of another?

Jim’s fingers catch on a curve of tough skin. There are more scars that Jim hadn’t noticed before, barely dimpling his skin. Jim looks at Spock with a questioning expression, but Spock merely kisses him. Jim leans down to kiss a thin rough line running down Spock’s neck. Spock stays silent.

After brushing their teeth, they settle together under the sheets. Jim adjusts his position to lie down pressed to Spock, who touches his hand to Jim again. “I will remove my hearing aids. Do you mind?”

“No, not at all.”

Spock warns, “I may need to perform a shallow mind meld. It is more suitable for longer conversation.”

 _Mind meld?_ Jim projects his consent, his curiosity, and it seems to be enough for Spock. Jim watches Spock take his hearing aids out with his other hand and place them into a tiny round dehumidifier, and he wonders how Spock lost his hearing. Spock looks at him with a raised eyebrow, and Jim heats up in embarrassment. “Wait, no. I was just thinking that - I didn’t mean to actually - ask.”

Spock’s amusement warms Jim to his toes. He guides Jim to lie down with him, and delicately lays fingers over Jim’s temple, under his eye, on his cheek. It’s like a pressure tingling at the peripheries of Jim’s thoughts, and he lets it slip into him.

Spock feels like the softest hug, warming his body like a promise of a companion that would stay, would never leave. _It’s alright, Tiberius. I do not mind sharing with you. I was involved in an accident during my childhood, was able to hear again after a number of years, however I received an injury at the same location. The incident occurred fourteen years ago._

 _From your work,_ Jim guesses. _The job that Sybok hates so much._ Spock neither confirms nor denies, which cements Jim’s suspicion. _Must be something you really care about, to be willing to receive the ire of your younger siblings like that._

Spock doesn’t reply again, but Jim can feel his pride, his devotion to his role and how he is highly regarded within his field for it. It’s not something that he reveals very often, and he feels bashful for sharing it.

Jim settles against Spock. _I’m gonna guess you already hear the worry from your siblings about you endangering yourself in whatever you do, so I won’t say I’m worried but I kind of am. Uh. Fuck. This mind talking thing doesn’t work like how I thought._

Spock chuckles and removes his hand to hug Jim to his chest. Jim feels the loss of his presence instantly, and wishes for it to return.

Spock rubs a thumb over Jim’s lower lip before returning his hand to Jim’s meld points. _Tell me about yourself instead, Tiberius. Why did you decide upon the subject of business studies as a major?_

Jim flinches back, and Spock removes his hands. “Sorry,” Jim says as the guilt and anxiety take over - _Winona, company heir, mining, Spock can’t know. It would ruin everything._

“I apologize,” Spock says. “I will proceed with caution. Is that sufficient?”

Jim collects himself and slips Spock’s hand back to his face. _Yes, sorry about that. It’s a pretty dumb reason, honestly. I had a giant crush on this business studies professor._

Spock raises an eyebrow at the mental image of a round bespectacled man with a broad grin. _Is that so?_

Jim grins. Sure, Scotty didn't look remarkable, but he had been one of the most decent people Jim had ever met. _I was gone real bad. But he was - incredible. Wise, funny and he was so kind. Even to myself. He also encouraged me to learn how to bake._

_Did he teach you?_

_Oh no, I taught myself how to bake a cake for him to try to impress him. Sweet potato cake. Unfortunately, it was so good that I ate it all myself._

That makes Spock laugh aloud, and the sound is like pure sunlight. Enchanted, Jim places a hand over Spock’s chest, curious what his laughter feels like. Spock misinterprets the gesture, grasping Jim’s fingers and guiding them down to his side. “This is where the Vulcan heart is located.” Spock’s heartbeat thrums through Jim’s hand.

Jim can feel Spock purring, feel the vibrations traveling into his own chest, and suddenly he has to fight the urge to cry. He never wants to leave this place here, wrapped among the heavy comforters in Spock’s arms. He’s so drowsy, he can't remember the last time the night felt safe, but Jim doesn’t want to fall asleep. He wants to pretend he can have this for as long as possible.

Spock strokes Jim’s chest over his heart before returning his fingers over Jim’s meld points. His voice is full of affection. _Your mind is very full. Relax._

The feeling of security lulls Jim out of focus, he catches himself falling asleep once, then twice. Spock is the perfect temperature at his side under his fingertips. His heart beats slightly more rapid than a human heart, but Jim has already memorized its pace. Then it’s the only thing Jim is aware of.

There’s a sudden brisk knocking at the door that echoes throughout the room.

Jim startles awake and realizes he had fallen asleep despite his best efforts not to. Spock is upright and alert. He is still fully naked, and his hearing aids gleam in the dark. “Tiberius, go into the bathroom, lock the door and stay out of sight.” He’s shielding Jim from the entrance with his bare body - and he’s holding a phaser gun at the closed door.

Jim freaks out. “Where the hell were you hiding a phaser this whole time?”

Spock's eyes focus on Jim. “Is this the same individual that attempted to follow us yesterday night?”

Jim’s disoriented state of mind fades. “Oh my god.” He touches Spock’s arm, encouraging him to lower the phaser. He glances at the clock and scowls at seeing the time. Spock is confused, feeling Jim's irritation and acute lack of fear.

The door knocks again and Jim groans. “Give me a moment, sweetheart.” He dresses in a bathrobe and goes to the door, still incredibly annoyed.

Jim slips through the doorway and confronts Hendorff. “The fuck, dude! Four in the morning? Couldn’t you have ruined everything in the morning three hours later?”

Hendorff interrupts him. “You must come back to the mansion immediately. Security watch, yellow alert.”

Jim looks around them at the empty hallway, no less irritated. “Can you give me five minutes?”

Hendorff doesn’t move. “Two minutes. Don’t close the door.”

Jim grumbles and slips back inside the room. Spock is standing at the side of the bed in another loose robe, still looking bewildered. “I have to go,” Jim says, apologetic. “I’m so sorry.”

Spock shifts and winces visibly. “You have certainly attained your intended goal. I will not be sitting much for the next forty-four hours.”

Thrill and guilt and desire swirl in Jim’s stomach. “Spock. . .” Jim doesn’t know what to say.

Spock kisses Jim and smiles faintly at him. Jim steps backwards out of the room, lingering at the doorway before stepping back into the harsh light of the hallway once more.

“Fuck,” he says as Hendorff drags him into the limosine.

“What?”

“I never got his contact information.”

Jim can’t focus on anything for the rest of the day. He sulks in bed, dismayed at his own idiocy. He still can’t believe he never thought to get Spock’s number. The only thing Jim’s left Spock is his watch that he forgot in the bathroom, expensive but nondescript, and some memories of a few pretty mind blowing orgasms. Spock will probably never find Jim because of his false name, just as it was originally intended to serve. But Jim wants to see Spock again. He has to.

Jim sits up in realization. _Spock. Professor Spock._

Jim grabs his phone and checks the contacts - as per security caution for his entire family, Jim’s personal devices are frequently wiped, and sure enough, Jim’s phone has already been reset and his messages with Professor Spock are gone. Jim only remembers the first twelve digits of the contact number. Jim drags his hands down his face. If he wants Professor Spock’s contact information again, he’ll have to go through his mom and that’s a whole other can of worms he’d like to avoid.

Jim pulls up a browser on his PADD and searches for Professor Spock. His information appears on the university site but there is no way to contact him. Further searches confirm none of his siblings with their unpronounceable Vulcan family name have any sort of social media. Jim blows out a breath and grabs his phone again.

_> > can I come talk to you_

The response is immediate.

_> > Schedule an appointment._

Jim rolls his eyes and clicks on the link in the next message. There’s an opening tomorrow morning at eight. Jim fills his name and enters ‘ _i like jackalopes’_ in every other required text box. He presses _‘send’_ and tosses the phone away.

After brushing his teeth, Jim trudges downstairs, not bothering to brush his hair or change out of the loose clothing he had slept in. Hendorff is already waiting in the hallway. “Winona will not be pleased,” Hendorff says after looking at Jim's crop top and sweatpants.

Jim ignores the bodyguard's very reasonable warning and allows him to escort Jim to the car.

They arrive at the massive, familiar building, the headquarters of Winona’s massive network of office buildings. It had been her friend’s design, a wealthy and equally renowned woman with credentials to back up her boasts. It towers above the other buildings in the area. Jim exits the car parked in the garage and navigates to the elevator, ignoring stares from the employees heading in the same direction.

His mom is sitting in her giant office, makeup and outfit pristine as always. She pauses from typing on her keyboard to give Jim a cursory glance of disapproval. “You couldn’t at least cover up for your employers?”

“It’s my day off,” Jim says flatly. “Besides, they’re not mine. They’re yours.”

Winona shakes her head and changes the subject. “Jim, do you remember when we ate dinner together, we talked about hiring my new bodyguard?”

The last time Jim talked to Winona in person was probably at least two months ago. It had been a very quiet dinner. “No, I don't remember,” he answers.

Winona's lips form a thin line. “Anyways. We talked to his company and hired him last week.” Winona gestures behind Jim, and Jim realizes only then that someone had been standing there the whole time. He stares at familiar greying hair and a somber face.

It's Spock.

Gone is the gentle smile and soft curiosity, replaced with cold confidence and a rigid black suit and tie. Spock looks solid, like an immovable force. The hearing aids are nowhere in sight. The contrast of visuals is dizzying.

“This is Mr. Spock,” Winona says. “Familiarize yourself with his face. He will be one of your main contacts if Mr. Hendorff is compromised.”

“Good morning, Mr. Kirk.” Spock’s voice is even drier than Hendorff’s.

Jim can’t move. He can’t stop staring. There are still love marks, marks that Jim left, right under that pristine suit and tie. Jim suddenly feels acutely underdressed.

Winona frowns at Jim's hesitance, and Jim reacts immediately. “Nice to meet you, Mr. . . Mr. Spock.” Jim’s voice is rough and he is forced to cough. He looks back at Winona. “What?”

“You’re the one that asked to see me,” Winona says slowly. “What do you want?” Jim looks back at Spock, the reason for him being in this room in the first place. _Fucking hell._

Winona is speaking again. “If this is about your bakery again, Jim, I don’t have time right now. Talk to me later about it.”

“It’s gonna be a cafe, and I’ve had the business plan and equipment ready for years. You’re the only one refusing to let me go open it.”

Winona does not look impressed. “You have a responsibility to our company.”

“Yes, the company to which I’m nothing more than a pretty face that occasionally says things that are meaningless.” Jim realizes Spock is avoiding eye contact with him. Maybe if Jim hadn’t spent the night before yesterday with Spock, Jim wouldn’t have noticed it, but it's there. Jim can see it under that mask of a Vulcan face.

Spock is scared.

“Actually,” Jim says, turning back to Winona. “Could I get Professor Spock’s number again?”

“You have no reason to contact him.”

“I was - I meant to ask him something. Just let me - please. Memorize his number real quick.”

Winona is silent as she pulls up the information. Jim glances discreetly at Spock again. Under closer inspection, Jim can see Spock’s still wearing hearing aids, but they’re a more compact and discreet design.

“Here.” Winona swivels around the monitor for Jim. “Got it?”

“Yes. Thanks.” Jim looks at Spock one last time before he leaves. He looks the same as when Jim first noticed him in the room. Indifferent.

Jim doesn’t remember the walk back to his car. The ride back home is a blur, and the moment he gets back to his bedroom he locks the door despite it being meaningless. He burrows under the covers of his bed, his mind spinning wildly.

Spock slept with him. Jim’s mom’s new bodyguard slept with him. Liaisons like that were a guarantee for a bodyguard to lose not only their reputation, but their entire career. If Jim had found out about Spock’s job, he knows he wouldn’t have lingered around him. Jim’s too closely affiliated with that entire field, he knows the ramifications of what happens in that line of business.

But Spock’s not the one at fault. Jim hadn’t been completely truthful either. He had lied about his name and his identity and the fact that the entire night they had spent together had consisted of Jim dodging _his_ bodyguard.

Jim grabs his phone and types in Professor Spock’s number.

_> > Did you know your brother was hired as my mother’s bodyguard?_

A long pause.

_> > No. What happened?_

Jim hesitates. The heat of the moment is gone, leaving Jim with the numbing realization that he has to be careful. One wrong word and he could compromise Spock instantly.

_> > nothing. just wondering._

_> > I see._

Professor Spock isn’t dumb. He’s probably guessed exactly what happened. Jim puts the phone down and buries his face in his pillow. “Fuck my life,” he says to nothing in particular.

His bed that night feels empty like never before.

Jim sees Spock whenever he sees his mom, which is to say he hardly ever sees him, despite working in the same company building. Jim can count how many times he’s seen Spock in the past seven months on one hand. It's for the best. Every time Jim sees him, he forgets how to think or speak or act like he’s never known him. Not that it matters, because Spock always completely ignores him.

Winona doesn’t seem to notice Jim’s inability to stay nonchalant, but George isn’t so easily fooled.

“I will say, he’s not the type I’ve come to associate with your preferences,” George says without precedent as he sits with Jim at the dinner table.

Jim stares at his father, baffled. George used to complain about Jim’s flirting, especially the flirting with their employees, but he’s stopped bringing up anything related to Jim’s love life years ago. Why start again now?

George sighs and sets his spoon and chopsticks on the empty plate. A housestaff person immediately clears it from the dining table. “That look isn’t going to get you anywhere, son. You’re not trying to flirt with this bodyguard like you have with every other one we’ve had.”

Jim freezes mid-motion, chopsticks nearling slipping from his fingers. George is still talking. “I’ll listen to whatever excuse you’re ready to manufacture, but I know you, Jim. And I’m thinking you’re actually harboring some kind of genuine attraction towards Spock.”

Jim quickly regains composure and raises his eyebrows at George. “So what? Should I go flirt with him? Would that change your mind?” George is silent long enough that Jim feels his heart beginning to race.

George gestures at Jim’s bowl. “Finish your food.” Jim finishes eating, and after dessert, George allows Jim to push his wheelchair to his room. He settles back, and Jim braces for his father to bring up Spock again, but George says, “Did Winona tell you, Jim? She’s planning to take you to the annual company gala next Thursday.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Jim deflates at the reminder.

“What, you’ve never wanted to visit Mures’d? Heard it's a nice planet.” They stop at George’s door. “Don’t make too much trouble, will you?”

“No promises.”

George pretends he didn’t hear.

The architecture of the ballroom is staggering. The columns match the exquisite colors of the tiled floor. At the center of the massive ceiling is an intricate crystal chandelier, radiating light to every corner and staircase of the room. Jim’s seen his share of incredible architecture, the product of the wealthy that desire to impress with their excess, but he finds the beauty of each new design breathtaking regardless. Jim would’ve appreciated this particular architecture more but he was preoccupied with one individual situated near Winona.

Jim stays on the other side of the room, trying to maintain an upbeat facade, laughing and talking and winking on cue with whoever comes over to him. He even accepts a card and a cheek kiss from someone. However, he stays rooted to his spot and doesn’t bother moving around to find people to mingle with.

“Are you okay, Jim?” Jim startles. Winona is right there. Jim can sense Spock in his periphery and wills himself not to glance in his direction. Winona creases her eyebrows. “Are you sick?”

“No. Kinda tired.” Jim musters a grin. God. First George, now Winona. Is it that unusual that Jim doesn’t feel like flirting for a single night in his life? Can't he just be left alone?

Winona gestures in a direction with her own glass. “You remember her?”

It’s been several years since Jim last saw her, but he recognizes Nyota Uhura instantly. Her hair is loose and carefully styled. She’s holding a glass in a hand covered with a black lace glove, and she looks wholly unimpressed with the man currently talking to her.

“Yeah,” Jim says. “She’s the representative of that pharmaceutical company, right?”

“One of our biggest potential customers. We’ve been interested in negotiating the purchase of a new mining planet solely for them. Go play nice with her.”

Jim shrugs and makes his way towards Uhura and the man that hasn’t stopped talking to her. “Evening,” he says to Uhura with a blinding smile.

Uhura’s eyes widen slightly. “Jim Kirk. It’s been a while.”

“No kidding. Last I saw you, you were still some kid chasing Chapel’s skirt.”

“Uh huh.” Amusement leaks through Uhura’s tone.

Jim asks casually, “How’s she doing, by the way? Is your girlfriend still running that lethal combat training center thing?” He pretends to notice the other man at that instant, who has been looking on in bewilderment. “Oh, evening, sir.”

“I believe I am needed elsewhere,” Jim hears before the man melts into the crowd.

Uhura gives Jim a knowing glance. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know what you did. I can take care of myself, thanks.”

Jim shrugs, scanning the room with bright eyes. “So is Chapel here?”

“Nope, home with the kids.”

“Shame. I would’ve liked to see her unleash some of that fearsome know-how in her intended’s honor.”

“Wife, actually.” Uhura beams.

“Oh, congrats. When did that happen?”

“Soon after I got promoted a few months ago. Reward for the advances our team’s making in developing a Vulcan suppressant for one of their mating phenomenons.” And then she goes into a long description of chemicals and formulas that are probably exciting for her, but Jim’s got no idea what she’s talking about.

“Wow,” Jim says, impressed. “You know your stuff.”

Uhura smirks at Jim. “That’s an understatement.”

“Oh, of course. We can’t wait to get this information out there. It’ll save lives.” Uhura falls silent, still focused on Jim.

Jim toys with his glass. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“You certainly don't live up to that flattering reputation I had initially been acquainted with. I heard rumors and figured much hadn't changed.”

“I like to keep people on their toes.” Jim winks. Uhura raises an eyebrow.

The sound system comes to life as the emcee introduces the beginning of the company presentation. Winona is waving at Jim. Uhura grins. “I guess you’re needed, golden boy.”

Jim exhales as he heads in the direction of the stage. “It was nice talking to you.” The diplomats cheer and applaud as Winona steps up the makeshift stairs to the podium at the center of the stage.

Then there’s a horrible noise that stretches across the room, from one side to the other. Jim freezes midstep. The conversations fall silent, and Jim stares up in horror at the crack spreading directly through the chain holding the chandelier. It’s breaking loose. There’s screaming everywhere. Jim sees the chandelier rushing straight down at him. And then his feet aren’t touching the ground.

Jim feels the floor under his back and a tall body wrapped above him. He realizes he’d been pushed clear out of the way of the heavy crystal. A hand cradles the back of Jim’s head, protecting it from the hard floor. Jim’s nose is buried in familiar soft wavy hair, and the sound of ragged breathing is amplified in his ear. Spock pushes himself up off of Jim, still panting heavily. “Are you injured anywhere?”

Jim still feels disoriented, clutching to the lapels of Spock’s jacket. He hears Hendorff’s voice growing louder as he runs over. Spock carefully helps Jim sit up with a hand to his back. His touch feels like fire.

“We’re moving you and Mrs. Winona to a secured area.” Jim feels Spock gently release his grip on Spock’s jacket, and then Spock is leaving. Hendorff hustles Jim down a hallway. ”Come this way, Mr. Kirk.” Jim follows numbly, a step forward at a time. He looks behind him and catches a glimpse of Spock rushing in the other direction, speaking into his earpiece.

He wonders if it was his imagination that Spock's lips grazed his cheek when he got up.

It’s all over the news next morning.

Jim sits in Winona’s office, facing the giant television screen. He watches again as Spock lunges across the room, diving at Jim right before the chandelier can crush them. They roll across the floor before coming to a stop at the feet of some shocked onlookers. Spock stays pressed to him a second too long before heaving himself up to touch Jim’s face and arm. It looks dramatic as shit.

Jim hates it.

He fumbles for the remote and turns off the screen. “Why wasn’t this pulled?”

“We tried. It was too late.”

“Was it deliberate?”

“We don’t know. They’ve been looking at the debris.”

Jim is still gloomy thinking about the leaked footage. He tugs at his collar, not caring if it messed up his tie. “Attention will get us in trouble later eventually. It always does.”

“Which is why I’ve decided to sign Spock for a full length ten-year contract and transfer him to you,” Winona says in a decisive tone.

“ _What?_ ”

“He’s the most qualified guard I’ve seen to date. I admit I was a little worried about his hearing disability, but it hasn't been an issue at all. If anything, it seems like he's even more aware of the surroundings.”

Jim’s stopped listening to his mom. All he can think about is the impending reality that Spock is his new fucking personal bodyguard. He’ll be closer to Jim than ever before, and Jim has to pretend like he doesn’t even exist? For ten years? Jim can't help the noise of frustration that escapes his lips.

Winona raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Jim freezes. More than ever, Spock's reputation and job in his hands. If he lets the secret slip, if anyone so much as notices Jim’s overfamiliarity, Spock will be transferred in an instant. As much as it pains Jim to have Spock within arms reach and unable to touch him, he’ll be damned if he just lets Spock go.

Jim feigns dramatic frustration. “Hendorff was enough of a hardass, this guy looks even worse.”

Winona sits down at her desk. “I’m processing the transfer immediately. Mr. Spock will be with you for the rest of the afternoon and take the full night shift back at our house.” Full night shift - that’s an entire night entailing Spock standing at Jim’s bedroom door.

Fucking fuck. This is gonna be so much worse than Jim thought.

Jim returns to his office desk computer. He’s drafting projected costs for a project budget, a wholly unpleasant task, when Hendorff’s comm goes off. Hendorff checks it, then opens Jim’s office door.

Spock steps in and nods at Hendorff, who promptly exits. Jim pretends to ignore him as the door slides shut. Spock stands silently at the office doorway, in the same location and stance that Hendorff and every bodyguard before him had established. It’s fucking with Jim’s mind. The silence is deafening.

Jim dares to peek once. Spock’s in a different suit today, still black and crisp and clean. He’s looking straight ahead with his chin up.

With that initial glance, the dam’s been broken. Jim stares. He can’t help it. After spending so long avoiding looking at Spock, he’s helpless to the temptation to drink in the sight of him. God, why does he have to look so good in a suit? The black tie and jacket molding over his shoulders is almost perfection.

Jim breaks the silence. “That's why your siblings cling to you like that whenever they have the opportunity. It might be the last time they ever talk to you.”

For a moment, Jim thinks Spock won’t respond, but he does. “That is a gross exaggeration.”

“The phaser,” Jim muses. “The driving ability and self defense technique. I should've been able to see it.”

Spock presses his lips together, and that’s that. The stifling silence returns. Jim doesn’t know what to do. The typing cursor blinks at the end of the last sentence in his document.

Jim is still in a disoriented state when he shuts off his computer for the night and stands unsteadily. Spock is also his personal chauffeur now, and he guides Jim to their designated vehicle to return home. Jim keeps his focus on the window, on his comm, anywhere but on the silent Vulcan driving in front of him.

Jim immediately goes upstairs towards his bedroom to take a shower. Spock follows silently, still looking as closed off and distant as possible.

Jim could attempt to pretend it's someone else that he made love to in that hotel, someone kinder and warmer that looked at him with utter fascination. But the moment he looks at Spock again with that well-tanned face and fringe of silvery hair, the visual mocks him. It's Spock and will always be Spock.

“Excuse me for entering.” Jim startles at Spock suddenly speaking up when they enter Jim's room together. Jim turns to stare at him. Spock just looks blankly back. “I must always announce my arrival when entering your room according to your personal guidelines manual.”

“Oh. That. I mean, you don't have to do that, I don't have my guards follow that anymore, they usually take night shift outside my door unless my ni-” Jim backtracks. “Unless I really need them.”

“According to your personal guidelines manual, I must maintain night watch within the confines of your personal quarters. I intend to do so.”

Jim's almost stammering, he's speaking so fast. “Believe me, you really do not have to do this. None of my other guards have. It's for the best.” For Spock's sake or his own, Jim's not exactly sure. Probably both of them.

Spock just stands there, hands behind his back while in perfect parade rest. Jim can't handle this right now. He gives up and turns to go into his bathroom. He trips over his own foot and smashes his forehead into the doorway.

It's more shock than pain, but Jim reels back, clutching at his head. He blinks in disbelief at Spock standing right there next to him, holding him upright. He inspects Jim's forehead with the same detached expression he's kept the entire day and Jim feels like now would be an excellent time to drown in his humiliation.

Spock removes his hands and resumes his distance. “Please be more careful, Mr. Kirk.”

Jim squeezes his eyes shut at the clinical delivery of Spock’s words. “Jim. Please. It's Jim.”

Spock ignores Jim’s whisper. Humiliated, Jim keeps his head bowed as he goes into the bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

The stifling atmosphere drags on. Spock shadows Jim inside the house and during the various events Jim must attend as a representative of Winona’s company. Spock drives Jim’s car, he stands guard at night while Jim tries to fall asleep. Jim watches Spock when he thinks he isn’t watching, through reflections, behind his back. Spock probably knows. Jim isn’t subtle, as much as he tries to be.

Jim wishes he knew why Spock is being so cold to him, but he’s afraid to ask. Is he angry at Jim for lying? Most likely it is because of their roles. Spock is responsible for Jim, and Jim responsible for Spock. Or is it simply that Spock had never considered him as more than a one night stand? He shows no interest in Jim on a personal level anymore.

Jim has to be realistic. What would be the point of figuring it out anyways? They couldn’t act on it, as much as Jim wanted Spock. Spock would likely refuse to compromise his work for him. But would he? Or would he be insulted by the prospect? Another month passes by with that nagging curiosity distracting Jim’s every thought.

A week before Jim’s birthday, Winona asks Jim to come with her and George on a routine journey to a distant section of the Alpha Quadrant, to check on the status of a few developed mining colonies. Jim accepts - it would be his first time on Winona’s new private starship.

Jim is silent as he sits in a comfortable passenger seat behind the pilot. He’d woken up a couple minutes ago, and had neglected finding breakfast in favor of listening to the hushed communications of the crewmembers.

He still remembers when he’d told Winona about his dream to be a starship captain. She’d scolded his outlandish aspirations, reminded Jim of his father’s devastating accident, and told him frankly that he would never become a starship captain. Jim didn’t dare talk about his dream with his father after that.

Then trouble hits. It begins as a light tremor from above that swells in magnitude until it is surrounding them on all sides. There are ships firing at each other, blasts getting closer and closer as they dart back and forth, nearly colliding into Winona’s starship. It’s an ambush that the ship’s sensors were’t equipped to detect early enough. Apparently a civil war has broken out recently on the planet their ship had been passing by.

Winona and George are sent to the largest escape pod before an explosion rocks the ship to the core. Jim is thrown backwards from the force. He feels a shadow pressed against his cheek and shoulder, and then nothing.

Jim groans, tasting salt and dirt on his lips. He rolls to his side, and he’s sore everywhere, with a throbbing pain in his left knee. There’s dense smoke obscuring his vision. Jim gets on his hands and knees and squints at the visual of the crashed escape pod that he’d been thrown from.

His stomach drops. Spock had pulled Jim from the starship floor and pressed him down to the escape pod seat as he’d closed the door behind them. He’s certain Spock had been in the escape pod with him.

“Spock?” Jim crawls to the wreckage, clearing away destroyed glass and metal. “Spock!” Spock is still curled up inside the escape pod with a nasty bruise on his chin. Jim grits his teeth and carefully hauls Spock under his arms, dragging him out and away from the dangerous, smoldering debris. Other than the bruise and unconsciousness, Spock looks okay.

Jim doesn’t stop until he’s confident they’re a safe enough distance from the escape pod. He lowers Spock to the ground and collapses next to him. The sun beats down incessantly.

As if on cue, the ignition on the escape pod combusts. The detonation is deafening. Jim finds himself huddling over Spock’s body, protecting him from the burst of light and smoke. Woken by the loud sound, Spock startles to attention, gripping Jim’s arms. Almost as quickly, he removes his hands from Jim and sits upright.

“Spock, are you okay?” Jim is worried by Spock’s uneven movements.

Spock’s chest moves as he feels his pocket. “My hearing aids have been dislodged during our descent.”

“Fuck.” Jim moves closer to Spock, but he doesn’t react.

Spock is blinking rapidly. “If you are saying something, Mr. Kirk, I cannot see.” Jim tries to reach out for Spock’s hand, but Spock flinches away from the contact. “This should be a temporary obstruction due to the smoke.”

“Stop being fucking ridiculous.” Jim grabs Spock’s hand, and projects loudly as Spock struggles to break free. “It’s just us, Spock, in the middle of an empty godforsaken desert! Don’t be stubborn!”

Spock freezes. “Winona and George.”

Jim scans the horizon, which has grown clearer now that much of the smoke has dissipated. He doesn't see them anywhere. Spock is focusing better on Jim’s face. Jim moves closer to Spock, still holding his hand. “Do you have a communicator?”

Spock shakes his head. Jim’s throat goes tight. “Were my parents caught in the crossfire?”

“Uncertain. Last I was informed, they escaped safely in the direction of this planet.”

“We need to find out where they went.”

“No. We stay here.”

“My parents,” Jim protests.

“You are my principal protection and my priority.” Spock slips his hand from Jim’s loose grasp. “My responsibility is first and foremost to your wellbeing. Once you are safe, I will be able to devote my attention to reconnecting to the rest of the security team.” Spock starts walking to a shaded area beside a tall pile of boulders. “There is a road not far from here, and I suspect it has been used recently. Sit in the shade and conserve your strength.”

Sure enough, next to the rocks there is a narrow path with furrows to either side, resembling wheel tracks. It extends in a long, straight line across the expanse of dirt and sand from one horizon to another.

Reluctantly, Jim sits with his back against the tall rock, wincing as his leg complains. Spock makes an aborted motion towards him. “Are you injured anywhere, Mr. Kirk?”

“S’fine,” Jim grumbles, an arm flung over his eyes. He feels Spock sit down next to him in the meager space of shade. Jim removes the arm to see Spock’s gaze resting clear and alert on Jim. Jim tries to see the loving man he’d slept with in the stoic features, and finds it’s far too easy to see. He stops looking.

Spock says, “You returned to retrieve me from the escape pod.”

Jim nods.

“That was a foolish decision, Mr. Kirk. You should've evacuated immediately.”

Jim grabs Spock by the wrist to interlock his dusty fingers with Spock’s using his other hand. “Fucking fuck you,” Jim spits out before throwing Spock’s hand away. He slumps back against the rock, but there’s little place to move without touching Spock. Jim entertains the idea of ignoring Spock’s advice and waiting it out under the full strength of the sun - a good distance away from Spock.

He doesn’t do it.

The sun slowly sets, taking its light and heat with it. Jim resists the urge to shiver, but Spock is already removing his jacket.

“No, you don't have to do that,” Jim says stubbornly. Spock holds out the jacket, and Jim doesn't take it.

The night gets darker and colder. The flesh of Jim's arms feel cool to the touch, goosebumps breaking out everywhere. Jim huddles against the dying heat of the rock he's sitting against, acutely aware of Spock's radiating body heat right next to him. Jim's eyes drift in and out of focus on his knees, tilted away from Spock's long legs. It's been several months, but Jim still remembers exactly what it was like to lie down between those legs and taste the skin there.

Jim's head is feeling fuzzy, and he can't tell if it’s from fatigue or dehydration or the awareness of his proximity to Spock. Jim closes his eyes and it provides some relief from his dizzying thoughts.

“Mr. Kirk,” Spock says.

Jim startles awake. He'd fallen asleep. The sky looks lighter, and Jim's upper body is warm despite the chill on his face.

“Please get up, we must go.”

Jim realizes the jacket that's been draped over his shoulders is Spock’s and infuriatingly smells of him. “Where are we going?”

“To find assistance.”

Jim hauls himself up to his feet and follows Spock. The road remains straight and unoccupied by anyone except for them. Jim is starting to lag behind Spock. Jim doesn't have Spock's endurance or body designed to survive in a desert. His stomach is beginning to complain from lack of breakfast and any meals the night before. His tongue is starting to feel rough in his mouth.

“Mr. Kirk?” Spock patiently waits for Jim. When Jim catches up, Spock follows his pace, constantly looking beyond and behind them. Eventually Jim holds Spock's jacket over his head to protect him from the building heat of the rising sun. He's tempted to strip down to his boxers, it's so hot. Spock's shirt is still buttoned all the way up to his collar, tie still around his neck, and he hasn't broken a sweat.

The road gives way to a vast slope. Jim stares down with apprehension at a single building at the base of the hill next to the road. He doesn’t recognize the language of the writing on the large sign at its front.

Spock leads him down the road and they enter the small building together. The blast of air conditioning and a faint buzz welcomes them. Jim raises his eyebrows at the counter, the stocks of items on shelves lining every wall and filling the interior. There appears to be an entire shelf of newspapers and magazines in the same strange language that appeared on the building sign.

The cash register looks surprisingly standard issue, along with a couple recognizable confectioneries stacked in the shelves below it. The cashier, on the other hand, looks like something crossed between a lobster and a pigeon, with long antennae and a small beaked mouth in the exoskeleton of their head.

The cashier’s beak moves up and down. “Welcome to Pezamazo's Stores Inc.”

Spock instantly moves closer to Jim, shielding him from the cashier. “Spock,” Jim chides before remembering Spock doesn't have his hearing aids and can't hear anything. He can’t read beaks as well as he can humanoid lips. Jim musters a grin at the blankly staring employee. “Hi, sorry. We’re just looking for a comm.”

“We are not a social species, human. There is nothing of that sort in this establishment.”

“They don't use comms,” Jim relays to Spock.

Spock asks, “Where is the closest place where we might find a communicator?”

The cashier's beak moves again. “There is a territory four days by foot to the east. I believe there may be a colony there.”

Spock stares helplessly. Jim looks back at the cashier. “Uh - so where exactly are we?”

The cashier says an unintelligible name. Jim blinks.

“What is he saying,” Spock finally says, as if every word is excruciating to say.

Jim faces Spock and tries to repeat the phonetics of what he heard. Spock stares at his lips. No response. “Gonna guess that didn't work.” Jim holds out his hand. He could almost swear that Spock is glaring at him. Jim shouldn't be deriving the level of amusement he is from seeing Spock getting so frustrated, but it's the most emotion he's seen from him since the day he first saw Spock in Winona's office.

Jim holds his hand out further, and Spock very reluctantly takes it.

Jim could laugh at how absurd the situation was. If someone had told Jim that he'd be trying to hold someone's hand in an otherworldly convenience store to try and figure out where the hell they were, Jim would've thought they were insane.

Jim turns back to the cashier. “Could you repeat that, please?”

The cashier repeats the name, which Jim tells Spock mentally.

“Servi Valley,” Spock says immediately. “On the dwarf planet Veniroderah.”

Jim tugs Spock's hand. “They said there's a colony four days to the east that might possibly have a comm.”

Spock asks the cashier, “Do you have a vehicle we could borrow? You would be compensated generously.”

“No vehicle,” the cashier says. “However, it would be simple to transport you both in less than three hours. I have the ability to fly.”

“So - can you?” Jim asks.

The blank stare is trained back on him now. “What compensation do you intend to offer?”

Jim offers a monetary number. Spock’s gaze wavers at the mention of the staggering sum, but the cashier’s antennae twitch. “I have no need for money.”

“Then - is there anything you need that we could offer you?” Jim has no idea what to do. He is this close to propositioning the lobster pigeon. It wouldn't be his first time sleeping with someone with no idea how their body parts work in tandem, he’d be able to figure it out. Of course, it wouldn’t be ideal to sleep with them while Spock's there, but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do, right?

“I get a visitor every couple weeks or so. You could wait for their assistance.” The lobster pigeon is now munching on something from a familiar-looking blue packet, spraying crumbs from their beak.

Jim slips his hand from Spock’s, inching closer. “You like those Earth cookies?”

“They are my favorite of everything I have sampled in this store.”

“What if I told you there’s something even better than plain Oreos?”

The cashier pauses. “That cannot be possible.”

“Listen to this: Oreo tiramisu cake. Do you know what tiramisu is?”

“Yes,” says the lobster pigeon. “It is a flavor of boba tea. Is that correct?”

Jim chuckles. “Oh, buddy. You’re in for a treat.”

That’s how Venn invites them to their place of residence after closing hours. The house is located within viewing distance of the convenience store, embedded into the sandrock itself. Spock is visibly agitated, constantly looking about the unfamiliar space. Jim sets out groceries acquired from the store across the counter and retrieves an electric whisk from the top drawer. “What’s a fully loaded kitchen like this doing in the middle of nowhere with someone that refuses to cook?”

Venn shrugs. “Cooking is a hassle.” The lobster pigeon has changed out of his uniform, and they acutely watch Jim’s movements. The cake is relatively quick to make, especially because Venn’s freezer has a deep chill setting on the top drawer.

Jim removes the tiramisu from its parchment paper before carefully cutting a slice. He places it on a smaller plate and offers it to Venn. The lobster pigeon samples a corner. Then he opens his beak wide and the cake slice disappears. Then Venn grabs the rest of the cake and that disappears as well. Spock stiffens and Jim almost yelps. Venn looks up at Jim. “When would you like to depart?”

“Now,” Jim says. “Please.”

Venn hesitates.

“I’ll make you another cake if you do. And give you the recipe.”

“I find this acceptable,” Venn says.

Venn is as strong as they look, with powerful, broad wings. They hold Jim with one leg, and Spock with the other. Venn soars above the cool dunes without rest. The night air is freezing, but Jim still has Spock’s jacket on.

Jim and Spock safely arrive at the colony and say their thanks to Venn. They are able to access a comm instantly, and Jim is glad to hear Winona and George’s voices. They’re okay. Uninjured, and at a city almost on the other side of the planet. Their escape pod had landed safely with the others, and the crew was safe as well.

Jim and Spock spend the night at the colony, and a sleek shuttle to transport them arrives the next morning. Winona is visibly relieved to see Jim completely unhurt. She compliments Spock lavishly, declaring the recommendation she will provide to Spock’s company.

They forgo visiting the mining planets to return back to their home. Jim feels exhausted as he walks with his father down the hallway towards their rooms. Spock is close behind.

“We’ll visit some other time,” George says as they stop in front of his room. “Just glad it all ended well. Good night.”

“Yeah. Night.”

George looks up. “Oh, and happy birthday, Jim.”

Jim swallows, hearing the words seldom used by his family now. “Thanks, dad.”

George keeps a careful eye on Jim, and then he disappears into his bedroom, apparently satisfied with whatever he saw. Jim goes back to his own room, and he feels Spock close the door behind them.

He gets ready for bed, trying to ignore the heaviness growing in his stomach, seeping up into his chest making his lungs tight. He already knows he’s in for a long, sleepless night, but he gets into bed anyways. Jim keeps the light on. If he turns his head, he can see Spock standing next to his doorway, alert as always. The room is silent. if someone comes in, Spock will know. He’s more than capable of protecting Jim.

Jim closes his eyes. He doesn’t fall asleep.

It feels like it’s been over an hour. Jim shifts in bed, his hands drifting to a pillow to hug to his chest. He allows himself to think of smiling eyes, a soft laugh, a comforting warmth inside his mind connected through the points on his temple and cheek.

Jim feels something on his ankle and violently recoils.

The touch persists, spreading up his leg to his thigh. A yelp escapes Jim’s mouth and he thrashes awake, gasping and blinking at his ceiling. There’s only his blanket tangled around his legs.

“Mr. Kirk?” Spock is in the same position Jim last saw him in.

Jim squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m okay. It was a nightmare.” He’s sweating all over. The sensation of something pressing around his ankle lingers on his skin, and he rubs at it with his other foot despite knowing he can’t remove it. Spock watches Jim roll over to lie on top of his sheets. Jim closes his eyes again, trying to regulate his breathing.

“Mr. Kirk, what you mentioned to your father earlier-”

Jim is so surprised by Spock’s voice that he can't speak for a moment.

“You choose not to celebrate your birthday?”

The irony. Jim wants to laugh. He wonders how Spock would react, knowing of the wild parties that Jim had held before he conceded defeat and accepted it - no matter how dangerously drunk and high he got, he would never forget.

Spock probably knows all about Jim’s history of debauchery by now. All it takes is a simple search on any browser. That kind of reputation isn’t one you build in a single night. It must be why he brought it up in the first place.

Jim finally says, “Something happened the night before I turned thirteen.” His voice trembles on the last word. Spock waits, but Jim doesn’t clarify. He adjusts his pillow and tries settling in a different position, despite knowing it would be futile. “It’s been like this every night since then.”

Spock looks like he’s about to say something, but he gives a little shake of his head. “I was not aware.” Likely Spock was thinking of how easily Jim had slipped into a deep sleep curled up in his arms.

The thought of the precious memory drains what little patience Jim still had. He sits up, not looking at Spock. “Get out.”

“Mr. Kirk,” Spock begins.

“Outside my door, now. I’m going to masturbate.”

Jim didn’t think it was possible, but Spock’s back goes even more ramrod straight. Jim scoffs. “What? You’re scandalized to hear that I have a healthy, active sex life? Believe it or not, you and I have _fucked_.”

Spock is expressionless.

Jim’s voice takes on a false cheer. “Lucky for you, our bedrooms are soundproofed. Probably. Now get out.”

Spock leaves. Jim doesn’t touch himself. He buries his face into his pillow and wills tomorrow to come faster. Because tomorrow means one less day in the ten-year contract, and one day closer to the minuscule possibility of touching Spock once more.

They manage to form an unspoken, fragile truce for a while. They speak normally enough to each other in public. No one gives them a second glance.

When they are out of the hearing range of others and rampant recording devices, occasionally Jim tries to prod, attempting to get Spock to acknowledge what they had shared in the past. Spock goes icy every time.

Spock’s birthday comes and goes. It was the only thing on Jim’s mind as Spock stood guard as if the day was no different from the others. Jim doesn’t wish Spock a happy birthday. He stops trying to initiate conversation altogether.

It’s been well over four months since Jim stopped acknowledging Spock when Winona asks Jim to accompany her to a large diplomatic conference. She’s interested in buying a planet for mining operations, Haoh IV, and has been working with the Federation to secure it. For some reason, the Romulans are also intent on securing Haoh IV, creating conflict with the Federation. Their reasoning for acquiring it remains vague. It’s impossible to understand why they want it.

Jim’s still pondering over it by the time he goes back to his individual hotel room. Spock closes the door behind them. Jim is studying the notes from the meeting on his PADD as he prepares to take a shower. He leaves the notes on a desk before going into the bathroom, taking a brief sonic shower.

When Jim exits, he catches sight of Spock examining the notes with hands behind his back. Spock sees Jim and returns to his post next to the door. Jim takes the notes and asks, “What do you think about Haoh IV, Spock?”

“You should seek a second opinion elsewhere, Mr. Kirk.”

Jim should’ve expected as much. “You were pretty willing to share your opinion when I was going down on you,” Jim mutters, tossing aside the PADD. Spock doesn’t respond, doesn’t even bat an eyelash. God, Jim knows he's being an asshole, but he can’t help himself. If only he could see a reaction out of Spock, _anything_ , any acknowledgement of the terrifying intimacy they had shared.

Spock’s voice stays level and detached. “An opinion could lead to misunderstanding, Mr. Kirk. You are aware of this. It is a foundational, basic rule of any bodyguard. That is what I am, your bodyguard, not your lover.”

Jim folds his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’d rather be loved than protected, Spock.”

Silence drags out.

Spock’s tone is flat but the words are scathing. “Mr. Kirk, you have been demonstrating an acute lack of sensitivity to my situation.” Jim is frozen. Spock is almost glaring now. “It took a great deal of time and effort for me to secure the position I have today. My job is very important to me. I will not waste it so easily. If you would excuse me.” Spock steps outside the door to resume his post in the hotel hallway. Jim is left in an empty room ringing with silence.

Jim puts his head in his hands, overcome with despair. God, he doesn’t remember the last time he hurt like this. He should’ve known better. This is what he fucking gets for baring his heart to a Vulcan.

In a sudden fit of passion, Jim is tempted to fall to old habits and bring a random warm body back to his room to fuck, just to get a rise out of his callous bodyguard.

As if it had read Jim’s thoughts, his comm beeps, notifying of an incoming text message. It’s from none other than Gaila, the sexy Orion daughter of a wealthy manufacturer. Jim had spoken with her earlier today. Without sparing another glance at the doorway, Jim goes to his closet to find his nicest shirt and tie. He’s going out tonight.

Jim makes sure to reserve dinner by calling loudly on his comm. The restaurant is a block away from their hotel, his mom’s recommendation. She’s tried the Seafood Arrabbiata. The only redeeming quality Jim finds of the place is its sheer gaudiness, which is exactly why he had chosen it.

Jim meets Gaila inside the restaurant, smiling bright and complimenting her beautiful suit jacket. It brings out the fiery color of her curly hair. Maybe at some point in the past, Jim would’ve held serious intent in his gesture towards her. Now there’s nothing.

At least Gaila looks like she’s enjoying herself. Jim feeds her from his own fork, and then makes a great show of sharing his dessert with her, licking his spoon, savoring the sweetness he scoops up with his tongue. Gaila smirks at the lewd insinuations.

Jim knows Spock’s somewhere in here, out of sight but close by. He tells himself he doesn’t care. Spock can go fuck himself.

They finally go back to his hotel room, whispering to each other as they navigate the hallways. Before Jim can put the key card in his door, Spock abruptly gets in front of them.

Spock has stayed out of sight for so long that it’s jarring to see him in front of them with such a confrontational stance. He is focused on Gaila. “You are not to enter Mr. Kirk’s private quarters until you have passed interrogation. State your intentions.”

Jim splutters. “What the fuck, Spock? She’s been with me all night! What more do you want?”

Spock is impassive as he stands in the hallway facing Gaila. Gaila’s eyes are wide as she looks from Jim to Spock. “Uhh. I intend to have sex with Jim Kirk?”

Spock's face is expressionless. “Do you plan to bring harm to Mr. Kirk in any way shape or form?”

“No.” Gaila tilts her head. “Unless that’s what gets him off, I guess? Should I do that, Jim?”

“I’ll pass this time.” Jim glowers at Spock. “Will you please step aside so that I can go into my own room?”

Spock makes eye contact with Jim. For a split second, there seems to be a feverish light to his eyes. It’s gone quickly enough that Jim wonders if it was his wishful thinking. Spock steps aside and Jim stomps through with Gaila next to him, refusing to look at Spock. He closes the door and shucks his jacket off. Gaila's twisting her head back towards the doorway. “What was with that dude's vibes?”

“Can it,” Jim mutters, getting onto the hotel bed.

Gaila doesn't follow him. “I'm being serious, Jim. I'm an Orion, if you've forgotten, and I can smell changes in emotional chemicals. That bodyguard out there-”

Jim shakes his head. He doesn't want to hear any more of this. He keeps removing clothing with blind anger. Gaila wraps her hand around Jim’s wrist before he can remove his underwear. “Jim, stop.”

Jim looks up at Gaila, not strong enough to hide the misery in his voice. “Can't you just fuck me, Gaila?”

Gaila hums and drops her voice. “Something tells me that's not what you want. Is it?”

Jim looks up at the gorgeous, flawless Orion right within his reach, and he knows at that instant - he can't sleep with Gaila. There’s only one person he wants.

Jim buries his face in his hands. “This is so pathetic.”

“Oh, baby.” Gaila sits on the edge of the bed next to Jim. “Something happened, didn’t it? So what happened? Did the bodyguard do something mean to you? Need help getting revenge?” Gaila's eyes twinkle.

A laugh escapes Jim. “You're the best, Gaila.” He sighs and switches to a hushed tone. “But no, no revenge. There were a bunch of unfortunate things that happened all together at once. I was one of the unlucky bastards caught in the middle of it.”

“Hmm, that's too bad. I can fake a real good orgasm.” Gaila sticks her tongue out.

Jim laughs again. “Gaila - I’m still sorry. I’m sure this wasn’t what you were looking for when I texted you.”

“Well, duh. But it’s nice in its own way. Promise.” Gaila removes her own clothing before snuggling up behind him. Jim listens as her breathing grows steadier, until he’s certain she’s fallen asleep. Jim doesn’t fall asleep.

Jim allows Gaila to use the shower in the morning before him. He remains half-dressed as Gaila collects her things to leave before they both exit the door. Spock is in the same place where they’d left him. Gaila arranges Jim so they’re in direct line of Spock’s sight, and she kisses Jim on the lips. “Buy me dinner again sometime.” She winks.

Jim raises his eyebrows at Gaila, but she ignores him as she smiles brightly as she leaves. Jim goes back into his room without closing the door, and hears Spock follow him in. Jim slumps back into the unmade bed, pulling the covers over his head. Gaila's scent lingers in the fabric and on his clothing.

Jim thinks about Spock’s reaction to Jim’s attitude towards Spock’s job, and Jim is realizing how much he’d taken for granted. The proof of Spock’s hardships is right there in his hearing aids. Of course it would’ve been difficult for Spock to gain the trust and reputation he holds, and so easy to lose at the same time. It’s not fair for Jim to draw a comparison of the value of Spock’s work to the value of himself.

The needling thought persists, hurtful as it is truthful. Jim’s just not worth sacrificing for and he never will be.

After the conference ends and they return home, Spock doesn't come to work for a week.

“Extended leave,” Hendorff says. “He requested it months ago, we were fully aware of his time off.”

Jim is caught off guard. “Spock did?”

He loses focus on his work, preoccupied with his thoughts as he sits in his office. Spock on vacation? It makes no sense. Jim wonders if it’s because of an illness, but Hendorff had said Spock asked for time off months ago. Maybe he’s gone to visit family. Friends. Maybe Spock has a lover that Jim didn’t know about. Not that he had any right to know.

Jim resists the urge to break the tablet pen he is holding in his hands. It doesn’t deserve that.

The final day of Spock’s leave passes, and Jim keeps a sharp eye out for him at work, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Jim returns home with Hendorff and spends the rest of the day indoors. Spock is absent from where he would usually stand. The sun is setting outside. Jim cleans up the last of the pans he’d been using for his latest experiment with cake batter, and Spock still isn’t there.

Jim stands in the shower longer than usual, conflicted as usual over whether or not to risk looking too concerned about Spock by asking Winona about him. He turns off the water and resolves to wait one more day before asking. Not bothering to dry his hair, Jim loosely slips on a bathrobe and ties it around his waist as he exits the bathroom.

He startles backwards, realizing Spock is standing in the middle of his bedroom.

“Spock!” The initial shock gives way to more perplexity. Nothing about Spock looks different or out of place - other than his strange position closer to Jim’s bathroom door. Jim’s brows furrow. “Did you have a good leave? Where have you been?”

Spock looks at him a little too long. Jim notices - Spock doesn’t look wholly well. The skin of his face is the slightest tinge sallow, cheeks barely flushed, and something is off about his composure. Jim begins, “You weren’t looking too great during. . .” _During the date with Gaila_. “. . . during the conference last week, either.” Jim moves a little closer to Spock, his worry growing. “If you're still feeling sick, you should go home and rest.”

Spock grabs Jim by the hips with terrifying strength and slams him to the wall. Spock presses the length of his body against him, and Jim is so surprised that he doesn't make a sound. He doesn’t dare move.

Spock exhales and releases his grip. The top half of Jim’s bathrobe has fallen off his shoulders, pooling around his arms and waist. Spock collects himself and stiffly stands up straight, taking three steps back. “I apologize.” He takes another step back and looks Jim up and down, his expression indecipherable. “Retrieve a dermal generator for your bruises immediately. I must arrange for another three days of leave immediately.”

Spock says something into his earpiece as he leaves Jim’s bedroom. Jim is still frozen on his spot against the wall.

He doesn't use a generator. He feels the bruises on his hips for the next two weeks.

They don't bring it up again.

With the strange incident in Jim’s room, Jim and Spock keep an even further distance from each other. Jim doesn’t know what to think of what had happened. He should’ve reported Spock’s strange actions immediately.

Jim’s anxiety spikes when Winona calls him to her office. She looks impassive as ever as she hands Jim a PADD.

“We require a representative,” Winona says. “We have arranged for you to attend.”

It’s a conference located on Gamma Trianguli VI, one of the smaller ones, and Jim recognizes the highlighted companies that Winona has been wanting to network with for some time.

Jim smirks. “Look at that, you’re actually giving me something to do.”

“Mrs. Kirk,” Spock says, and Jim has to resist the urge to startle. “We have already discussed this. I have spoken to you about the recent activity in the adjacent Orion sector.”

Jim feels a shiver down his spine. He's heard the rumors about Orion smugglers. They're efficient at what they do, and brutal.

Winona nods. “Your input is appreciated, Mr. Spock, and we have taken the necessary precautions already. Your contact over there is somebody I can trust. We’ve known each other for several years.” She dismisses them.

Jim is frowning as he returns to his office. Once they are safely behind closed doors, Jim turns to Spock. “What was that about?”

Spock glances at Jim. “Let me guess.” Jim frowns. “You're not supposed to discuss it with me or something.” Without waiting for a response, Jim goes to slump in his desk chair. The bad feeling about the trip is spreading. Maybe Jim should say no. Jim wants to ask Spock what he should do, but what's the point when Jim already knows his question will be ignored?

Jim sighs and avoids meeting Spock’s eyes as he returns his attention to his computer. If he's going on this trip, there's plenty of work to finish beforehand.

The discrete starship Jim and Spock travel to the conference in is one of the smallest Jim's ever been in. The transporter room is adjacent to the bridge, and the only place with enough room for Jim to lounge in is the mess hall, which also serves as a recreational room. The cramped quarters just mean that Jim is in a closer proximity to Spock than ever before. The room they share has bunk beds, and that night Jim lies awake on the top bunk, listening to Spock in the bunk right under him. He doesn't sleep. He wonders if Spock is lying awake as well.

They are about half a day away from Gamma Trianguli VI when they receive a hailing signal from Winona’s contact. They’ve come in their starship to escort Jim’s vessel.

“This was an unscheduled event,” Spock says, displeased as the starship draws closer to their viewing port. “We were to meet at the starport.”

The communications officer turns from her control panel. “Mr. Spock, there is an incoming call for you.” Jim watches the viewing port as Spock goes to receive the communications ear receiver.

“I do not understand.” Jim stills hearing Spock’s low, confused voice. “No. No. I apologize, please repeat the statement. Falsified? The conference will not be for another two weeks?”

Jim’s heart clenches. Spock slaps down the ear receiver. “Turn this ship around,” he says immediately. “Mr. Kirk.”

It’s too late, there’s already the sound of the shrill frequency of the transporter beam. Jim tries to reach out for Spock, but an imposing figure in a tattered grey cloak bars the way. There are more people rushing in behind him with phaser guns held out and aimed. A black cloth is wrapped over Jim’s head, his arms are pinned behind his back, Jim hears Spock but can’t call out to him.

Darkness drags him under until he can’t stand straight. Jim doesn’t remember closing his eyes and falling asleep.

Someone’s calling his name.

Jim suddenly feels cold, and realizes a bucket of water had been dumped over his head. He spits water and struggles against the restraints binding him to the chair he is sitting in. They’re a touch too tight and don’t give way at all.

Jim blinks through droplets in his eyelashes and gasps to see Spock directly in front of him, disheveled and tied spread-eagled to a wall. His jacket and tie are gone, every movement of his chest visible through the thin material of his buttoned shirt. Several bloodstains are staining the fabric. “Mr. Kirk,” Spock repeats urgently. There's a cut on his lower lip that moves as he speaks.

Jim flinches, feeling someone brush by him. A cloaked, masked figure tosses aside a bucket, kneeling in front of him. “Leader, he is awake.”

 _Orions_. Jim feels his entire body beginning to tremble from the chill as a shorter figure sweeps forward, rolling back long grey sleeves. The room is rapidly becoming claustrophobic. “Hello, Mr. Kirk,” the leader says.

“Do not touch him,” Spock says, straining against his bonds. His wrists are raw from the amount he’s been struggling.

The leader hisses. “Your family’s account number,” she says to Jim in a gravelly voice. “Give us the number to your reserves and we will release you without any further harm.”

Spock interrupts Jim. “You must not tell them, Mr. Kirk. Our team is aware we have gone missing. Help will arrive soon. You must pretend that you do not know.”

“But - but -” Jim’s blood feels like ice, realizing what Spock has done. “Spock, no! You have to believe me,” Jim pleads as he twists to face the masked leader. “I genuinely don’t know what the number is! Winona and George never told me!”

“Yes, like that,” Spock says before another masked individual punches him across the face. Jim blindly lunges against his restraints, almost colliding with someone, and he falls to the linoleum floor, chair and all. It earns him a harsh kick and choking grip to his neck. “ _No_ ,” Jim hears as the room starts going dark.

Jim coughs harshly as his chair is righted with him still tied to it. There’s a phaser gun pressed to his temple. Jim can't breathe, he's had the wind knocked out of him. He catches sight of Spock’s stricken expression, and a stubborn part of Jim detached from the direness of the situation revels at the show of Spock’s concern for him.

“Put that down,” the leader says, “We cannot incapacitate this one. He is the one that knows the number. Besides -” She signals and Jim flinches as Spock is punched across the face again. “Besides, it is not his own pain that will give us advantage. Isn’t that right, Mr. Kirk?”

Jim holds his tongue, terrified that anything he says or reveals would give the smugglers incentive. It’s useless. As the phaser gun is lowered from his head, the leader reaches into one of the filthy cabinets, rummaging around until she reveals a long metal object in her hand. It is shaped like a stake but the pointed end looks sharp as a knife. “This is a Vandrok torture device, Mr. Kirk. Designated for high-priority interrogations only.” Spock gasps as the smuggler yanks up his shirt and presses the tip against his lower side. Right over his heart. Jim can’t breathe.

The leader drags a circular pattern across the skin, leaving a thin trail with beads of blood. “Give us the code, Mr. Kirk. Now.”

 _Don’t kill him, please don’t kill him,_ Jim begs internally. He repeats, “I don’t know. I swear on my own life.”

The leader cackles and says something indecipherable. “Swears on his life. Sweet boy. You, take this.”

She lets go of Spock's shirt to hand the stake to someone with a blunt, heavy mallet. Another figure roughly cuts Spock's pants leg at his upper thigh, ripping the black fabric down to expose the skin. Jim abruptly remembers kissing Spock there with a gentle reverence. Blood is starting to trickle from the careless knife work.

The stake is repositioned over Spock’s bare thigh. “Mr. Kirk, we will show you how we treat our prisoners while we are still feeling generous.” The leader signals.

The mallet swings through the air and drives the stake into Spock's flesh.

Jim feels himself screaming. Spock makes a horrible noise and weakly spits blood. He must’ve bitten his tongue.

“Another,” the leader says gleefully. A second stake appears, positioned right under the first.

“Stop!” Jim can barely speak, he’s crying so hard. “I admit I’m lying, alright? I’ll give you the number, just get your hands off of him.”

They stop. “Mr. Kirk,” Spock whispers, blood running from his lips.

“Spock, I’m sorry.” The sight of Spock’s blood dripping onto the floor is too much. Jim has to at the very least try and divert their torturers. Jim desperately wracks his brain - if he were Winona, what sort of account number would he use to secure his wealth?

Jim recites a string of digits, only to be cut off halfway by the leader gripping his collar. “We already know that is the routing number,” the leader hisses. “Are you testing our patience, Mr. Kirk?”

“He is playing games with us. I do not think he understands how serious we are, Leader.”

“No, wait, wait,” Jim begs. “I didn’t realize, I swear.” He curses internally that his first ploy didn’t work.

“No more chances. Speak.”

Jim tells them a number.

The leader is silent for a moment. “Give him the smaller pin. Hold his arm down.”

“Spock, oh god.” Jim's chest heaves, he feels like he's going to vomit as he watches the figure with the mallet brace himself over Spock's prone hand. Spock's taut gaze shifts as he glances down at Jim. His eyes flicker to the right. The message is clear.

_Don’t watch._

Jim squeezes his eyes shut, feeling like the worst coward for abandoning Spock like this. He flinches at the wet sound of the heavy mallet and Spock chokes on a pained howl.

Jim realizes he's muttering something under his breath. “Spock, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.”

The leader flicks at Jim's tears dripping from his chin. “You're a cruel man, Mr. Kirk. I didn't think you'd have it in you. Maybe we should give your bodyguard a good whipping again. That would bring you to your senses.”

Jim mutely shakes his head, unable to do anything else. The leader's ordering someone to retrieve her whip. Spock's haggard breathing is still loud in his ears. How has Spock not died of blood loss yet? Fucking hell. Spock's going to lose his leg and his arm because of Jim. _Fuck._

Jim doesn't recall clearly what happened after that. He remembers a commotion from outside their room, the sound of boots stomping, of a radio and war cries. Jim remembers the door flying open and pressure on his body - he thinks he might be hallucinating Hendorff's face in front of him. Jim tries to tell him to save Spock, but his vocal cords don't work.

Several pairs of hands free Jim and attempt to reposition him on a stretcher. He fights back. He needs to make sure Spock is okay, damn it all. He doesn't care if someone found out now, that Jim's been in love with him this entire time.

Someone holds Jim back as he watches Spock's broken, tattered body arranged on an adjacent stretcher. He's covered in blood and completely limp. The stakes are still embedded in his leg and hand. Jim's legs give out completely.

Someone is in Jim's face. “Mr. Kirk,” she says loudly. “He's alive, did you hear the medic? Calm down and let someone look at you.” There's a plastic mask over Spock's mouth now, and they're wheeling him away.

Jim tries to follow, but at that moment the world turns upside down and the ground rushes to greet him.

Jim comes to in a hospital bed, and nearly falls off the narrow mattress. “Jim!” George looks up in shock from his PADD. “You’re finally awake.”

Jim groans. His head feels too light from the sudden movement. George rolls closer and helps support him. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit. Where am I?”

“Our private hospital.” George is frowning. “They had to inject you with a tranquilizer hypospray. Apparently you had been completely out of control.”

Jim puts his head back down on the pillow, still feeling disoriented. He freezes. “Spock.”

“He's in surgery.” George sighs. “Winona told me two of Spock’s ribs are broken and the spikes had been tainted. The doctors are trying to control sepsis.”

“Oh, fucking hell.”

“Spock will be fine, Jim. He has his enhanced durability due to his Vulcan heritage.”

Now that the hysteria and adrenaline are gone, Jim feels utterly drained. “The conference - the smugglers. What happened?”

“It wasn’t something arranged overnight. The Orions had been incrementally interfering in the correspondence Winona was receiving in her inbox. The actual presider of the Gamma Trianguli VI conference is very apologetic for what has happened, and is taking preventive security measures to insure it doesn’t happen again.” George picks up his comm. “We were waiting for you to wake up, we can go home now.”

Jim doesn't want to leave. He wants to stay. He also doesn’t want to blow their cover. He doesn’t know what to do. George seems to take Jim’s silence as acquiescence because he orders Hendorff to drive Jim home. The safety of Jim’s room is meager relief for the ordeal he’s just endured. Jim collapses on top of his covers and reluctantly falls asleep.

The nightmares are awful. Jim is walking down a pitch black street. Someone approaches him from the corner of his eye. Jim tries to call for help, but the air refuses to leave his lungs. The figure rushes at him.

Jim wakes himself up, then falls asleep again. He sees Spock's bloodied body strung in the air. He watches the cloaked figure raise the mallet above his head, he watches blood dripping onto the dirty linoleum floor.

Jim wakes and struggles to sit upright. Every time Jim closes his eyes, the images dance in front of his eyes, mocking him. Jim groans and locates his comm. Nothing.

Jim plays on his PADD for a while, watching documentaries about Vulcan natural habitats and the rich diversity of wildlife that inhabits them. That leads him to videos describing the proper care and grooming of sehlats. Jim loves those furry teddy bear dog creatures. Does Spock like sehlats? Doesn’t matter. Jim’s getting five of them someday.

Jim almost misses the message because he’s enthralled by the news. There have been reported cases of two missing Vulcans from the same city, and authorities are attempting to discover if there is any correlation between the two.

Jim nearly drops his PADD as he reads Winona’s message. Spock has stabilized and will continue to be monitored.

Hendorff doesn't look surprised when Jim gets out of bed and confronts him. It's three in the morning, and Jim’s never gotten along with Cupcake, but not seeing Spock is out of the question. “Take me to the hospital,” Jim says. Hendorff is silent for the longest time.

“Wear a hat,” Hendorff finally says.

Jim dresses in the most unassuming sweatpants and sweater he owns. A mask covers the features of his face. Jim and Hendorff slip out of the mansion as the slightest hints of dawn begin to touch the sky.

Jim remains apprehensive in the hospital, body completely tense until he’s finally at Spock’s room. He slowly steps inside, not taking his eyes off that lovely, worn face. The readings sound steady. Jim quietly sits at Spock’s bedside and removes his mask, letting it dangle off one ear.

Spock is sleeping on his stomach, covered in thin blankets. He looks so vulnerable without his tie and collar to obscure his neck. Normally a broad and towering presence, Spock’s frame is slight under the sheets, barely moving with each breath.

Jim thinks of the night they shared on Spock’s birthday less and less as years pass, but at that moment Jim remembers showering together after having sex with him. Jim had kissed Spock’s exposed scars with no clue of where they had come from. Now Spock will have even more scars because of him.

Jim’s breath shudders. He resists the urge to reach out, to hold Spock’s hand, rest his head on the bed next to Spock’s lax arm.

He keeps vigil next to his sleeping bodyguard until a nurse comes to kick him out. Jim leaves without protest, but he keeps his eyes on Spock for as long as possible before exiting the doorway.

The next day, Jim forces himself to focus on his office work. He has to speak with the board of directors tomorrow, and has been preparing his presentation despite knowing it would have little effect on the policy decisions.

The moment work is over and Hendorff pulls their car from the company garage to the road, Jim turns to him. “Don’t go back home. I need to go back to the hospital. Please.”

Hendorff's expression doesn't change. “Mr. Kirk, you understand the implications this sort of attention could bring.”

Jim struggles to keep his voice steady. He fails. “I understand. Let me be selfish this once, please, Hendorff. I promise I won't ask again.”

Jim can’t hide his disbelief when Hendorff wordlessly accepts and turns the car around. He’s not going to question his good luck, though. The hat and mask go back on. The trip to the hospital feels even longer than it had last night.

Jim enters the hospital, and after quietly talking to the receptionist, navigates up to Spock’s floor. He freezes when he hears familiar voices.

“I did not think you would actually sleep with him,” Professor Spock says in a hushed but irritated tone.

“Your commentary contributes nothing to my present situation.” Jim’s insides feel funny at the sound of Spock’s rough voice, weak but clear. He sounds very much like he’s trying to downgrade the amount of pain he must be in now, but he’s awake. He’s okay.

Someone in a dark coat appears and walks down the hallway towards Jim. It’s Sybok. Jim scrambles backwards and out of view in another corner. Sybok doesn’t appear to have noticed him. He hesitates before he enters Spock’s room.

Jim moves back towards his original listening spot. Sybok sighs. “Spock.”

Spock takes a while to respond. “Sybok.”

“Are you in very much pain?”

Spock's voice is nearly petulant. “You have finally decided to speak with me again?”

A pause. “Has Michael visited already?”

“Yes.”

“How severe are your injuries?”

Spock exhales. “I'd prefer not to say.”

There is thick tension in the silence that follows. “I warned you.”

“Sybok-”

“No,” Sybok interrupts. “I told you it would be a poor decision to remain. If something of this nature were to happen again, would you even survive it?”

“Sybok,” Spock chides. “Your concern is misguided. Nor will it change my mind. I will remain with the Kirk family. I will stay with Jim Kirk.”

Sybok barks out a laugh. “See, this is exactly why.”

Professor Spock’s voice is soft. “Sybok-”

Sybok’s voice is scathing. “Shut up and let me speak. You say you have your feelings under control, but they always blind you. You mistake your protectiveness for attraction, and it leads to extravagant sacrifice on their behalf.”

“It is not - I am simply performing the responsibilities expected of myself.”

“As long as you continue to fool yourself, Spock, you will only be left hurt in the end as your principal inevitably leaves you with a broken heart. We are tired of watching it happen.”

Spock falls silent. Jim should’ve known. Spock may have feelings for him, but they’re only bred due to their circumstances, and have nothing to do with who Jim is.

Jim turns around and leaves. He doesn’t look back this time.

  


Spock leaves the hospital after four days, and is back on duty the exact same day. Jim is livid when Spock strides into his office wearing his suit and tie and earpiece. He’s angry enough that he refuses to greet Spock as he enters. A minute goes by. Spock shifts from one foot to another, warily eyeing Jim.

Jim takes a deep breath and finally turns to face him. His gaze is drawn to Spock’s hand, healed but there’s still the lingering traces of a scar. Jim makes eye contact with Spock and expects himself to sound angry, but he just sounds very, very tired. “Mr. Spock.”

A strange expression falls over Spock's features.

“It’s been less than a week. Your injuries were severe, you couldn’t possibly be fit for work already.”

“Vulcans can undergo an accelerated healing trance,” Spock says. “Not to mention the injuries were not as serious as the doctors suspected.”

Jim tosses down his tablet pen and crosses his arms. His words are short and blunt. “If you’re trying to undermine the severity of what you’ve just been through, don’t.”

Spock hesitates. “I feel fine,” he finally says in reply.

 _Is he, though?_ The memory of Spock’s body, torn and bloodied, haunts Jim daily. It’s not until Jim realizes Spock’s moved closer that he realizes Spock’s figure looks blurry. Fuck. Jim’s crying again, that’s real fucking attractive.

With watering eyes, Jim looks up at his solemn-faced bodyguard. God. Jim aches. He aches with the desire to reach out and soothe Spock’s skin, to touch him. He misses it. He misses touching Spock, talking to Spock under the covers, intimately connected through their meld. He misses feeling heard. Knowing Spock trusted him with secrets of his own. He misses it so much more than the fervent passions they had shared. Seeing Spock like this so soon out of recovery, neat and immaculate, is breaking Jim’s heart.

“Mr. Kirk.” Spock is now on the other side of Jim’s desk. He’s standing close enough that Jim could stretch out his leg and he’d be in contact with him. “I understand your concern, but I won't die so easily. Please do not worry.”

Jim remains motionless. He can’t make the first move. He can’t do that to Spock, he refuses to take advantage of his company’s most respected employee, but if Spock were to make the first move - if only -

Jim wonders if his desperation is evident in his eyes, the unspoken message he is trying to convey. Spock doesn’t move any closer. Jim's voice breaks. “We almost died, Spock, and you still won't even touch me? Not even once?”

Silence.

Spock's gaze returns to the closed door. “You may return to your prior task. Do not mind my presence.”

Jim doesn’t, but knowing Spock is within touching distance is enough to calm his trembling fingers clenched under the desk.

Jim smiles faintly at Spock upon exiting his bathroom, toweling his damp hair. Spock is standing at his designated spot, his uniform pristine. It’s still hard to believe that less than a week ago, he’d been unconscious in a hospital bed.

Jim cuts off the train of thought and goes to switch off the main light before getting into bed. His bedside lamp stays on every night now. “Good night, Mr. Spock.”

“Your birthday is in a week,” Spock says unexpectedly.

It's the first unprompted thing he's said to Jim in a very long time, and it catches Jim off guard. Jim waits, but Spock doesn’t say anything more. Jim eases further under the covers, curled up around a pillow. “Do you wonder why I’m the only one in our family who has a bodyguard inside my bedroom at night?”

Spock turns to more fully face Jim. He doesn't respond, but his expression is open. Jim twists his blankets around his fingers. “The night before I turned thirteen, someone got into my room - I woke up when he pulled off my blankets and underwear.”

Jim hadn't been able to move from the touch. There had been a large palm pressed over his mouth, but Jim hadn't made a sound. He had been completely petrified.

“I couldn't focus during the birthday party the next day, but there were so many distractions. My parents never suspected anything was wrong. I didn't tell anyone what had happened.”

Jim's comprehension afterwards of what had happened took years to form. The night he finally realized, he drank far too much, hired six prostitutes and had sex with every single one. The balm had been temporary, but it had existed.

Spock's voice is quiet warmth in the silence. “You were aware of the individual's identity,” he says.

Jim ducks his head to his chest. “When my mom's brother-in-law died of intoxication, they found pictures in his house. Printed photos he'd taken of me with his comm.”

It was the first time Jim had seen Winona look so angry.

Jim had made the mistake of looking at the images before they had been destroyed. Thin thighs, overexposed and splayed indecently for the camera. The last picture was taken during Jim’s birthday. It’s an image of Jim and Winona’s brother-in-law leaning next to him at the party, both smiling placidly. Jim feels sick every time he remembers.

Jim presses his arm over his face, refusing to let his voice tremble. “That's when Winona started ordering her hired bodyguards to keep watch inside my room.”

It’s been years since Jim stopped trying to control his fear through wild partying, trying to forget the feeling of disgust right under his skin that never could be scrubbed away. The funds now went towards a therapist Jim has neglected to visit in years, and philanthropic events of Jim’s own choosing each year, but just because his coping mechanisms have changed doesn’t mean the trauma has.

Spock’s voice cuts through Jim’s thoughts. “That will never happen again, Mr. Kirk.”

Jim's arm slips from his eyes. His voice comes out far more timid than he would've liked. “How can you be so sure of that?”

Spock's gaze bores into Jim. “I'm here.”

Jim's heart starts to race. “That's - quite a bit of confidence, there, Mr. Spock.”

“It is not confidence. It is my promise.”

Every fucking time. Every fucking time Jim tries to convince himself he's not in love with Spock anymore, he has to go and say something stupidly noble and moving like _that_.

Jim pulls his blanket to his chin and looks away. “Goodnight, Mr. Spock.”

Spock’s reply is gentle. “Good night, Mr. Kirk.”

Jim plays with his computer mouse, staring at his office computer screen. It displays the email he’d sent to the children’s hospital he supports annually for his birthday. But the only thing Jim can think about is the fact that his birthday this year will coincide with the day Spock is off duty. It’s not like Jim could ask Spock to stay for him. Spock has his own life. Jim will have to spend his birthday without him.

Still, he can’t help feeling sad that Spock won't be here. It would’ve been more than enough to know he was standing nearby.

Hendorff drives Jim home. Jim changes and brushes his teeth meticulously before going to bed, hoping tomorrow will pass by quickly. It’s the next best thing he could ask for. He closes his eyes and thinks of the memory of a smile that grows dimmer with each passing day.

And then Jim blinks his eyes open to see that it has become morning. By some strange miracle he’d fallen asleep. His birthday is here. Jim closes his eyes again, nuzzling his pillow, but he doesn’t feel sleepy. He thinks about baking a sweet potato cake for himself, but he had neglected to buy ingredients the night before. Replicators can imitate the texture of Terran sweet potato quite well, but the flavor is never right. It always comes out too bland.

Jim sighs and sits up, scratching his head. Spock is at his usual spot in front of the doorway in his uniform and earpiece. He nods once at Jim. “Mr. Kirk.”

Jim blinks. “Mr. Spock?” Against his will, his heart starts to pound inside his chest. “Isn’t today your day off?”

“Hendorff called in unexpectedly. He has an urgent matter to attend to. Winona arranged for me to fill his shift.”

Jim feels warmth spread throughout his body looking at his stern bodyguard’s face. He wants to ask if Spock requested a ‘favor’ from Hendorff so he could be with Jim. He doesn’t ask. He slips out from under the covers to the bathroom.

When Jim returns, freshly washed, he notices an unassuming paper bag on his table. Jim looks at Spock.

“It is a present from younger Spock’s household and Michael.”

Jim starts. “Present? For me?”

Spock raises a single eyebrow. Which, to be fair, Jim probably deserves. It’s his birthday. Who else would the present be for?

“There is no need to thank me,” Spock says. “I am simply the courier.”

The bag is surprisingly heavy, with a card at the top. Jim opens the envelope and smiles at the two small paragraphs inside from Professor Spock, Doctor McCoy and Michael, both wishing him well in their own ways. Jim puts the card neatly back in its envelope and reaches back for the bag. His heart skips when he takes out a clear container with a pretty little cake frosted with whipped cream.

“Mr. Spock-” The bag still isn’t empty. Jim carefully sets the cake aside and chuckles at the plastic fork and napkin. At the bottom of the bag is a box neatly wrapped in brown paper. Jim unwraps the box and looks with wide eyes at the understated yet peculiar rose gold studs.

“Michael thought they would complement the color of your eyes well,” Spock says softly.

“Did she now?” Jim can’t stop looking at the beautiful gift. He realizes there are two different symbols engraved on each earring, almost invisible unless seen from the right angle. One looks like a shield. Jim’s voice is almost hushed. “What are these engravings?”

“Traditional Vulcan hieroglyphics. The right represents the night, the left represents defense. Together, they are a blessing for protection through the night.”

Jim’s heart feels strange in his chest. The card is Michael and Professor Spock’s, but the gift has to be all Spock’s. He’s the only one Jim had ever told about his fondness for the color pink. He’s the only one Jim had shared his childhood trauma with.

Jim moves to his mirror, placing the studs aside on a table so he can remove the earrings he is currently wearing. He forces his trembling hands to stay still as he replaces the earrings with the gift. The studs gleam bright, striking against the warm color of his dark skin. They’re perfect.

Spock watches Jim sit and open the container to take a small forkful of cake. It’s still cold, and the airy, flavorful taste of sweet potato cake bursts across Jim’s tongue. Jim can’t eat anymore. His throat is choking up from how thoughtful the gifts are. How did Spock know about the sweet potato? Jim doesn’t remember ever telling him about it. Words seem so inadequate, Jim wishes he could express exactly how he feels, but Spock won’t even let Jim say thank you.

“Mr. Kirk?”

Jim blinks at the tears that fell without him knowing. Spock’s face is the slightest degree more concerned. “Why are you crying?”

_Oh nothing, Mr. Spock, just the fact that you’ve gone out of your way to conspire with your family to give me this thoughtful gift I don’t deserve? That your family is actually supportive enough to help you do something like this while my own parents have done nothing but desperately try to ignore the worst day of my life every single year?_

Jim bows his head. “I’m crying because of you, asshole.”

Spock pauses. There is a rare hint of softness in his words, a glimpse of the true man behind the suit and earpiece. “Is there any way I can remedy the problem?”

 _Yes,_ Jim wants to say. _Of course. Touch me. Fucking kiss me already, you stupid stubborn ass of a Vulcan._

Jim wipes roughly at his eyes and turns away. “No.” He pauses. “Thank Michael and Professor Spock for me.”

“I will.”

A crowd of curious onlookers and reporters have built up around the exterior of the museum building. Jim follows closely next to Hendorff, smiling mildly at the crowd that surges forward as the other bodyguards escort him to his vehicle. Jim removes his sunglasses and beams as Spock opens the car door for him. “Good evening, Mr. Spock.”

Spock simply closes the door behind Jim and gets into the driver’s seat. They pull away from the museum, Jim’s last public appearance on his itinerary for today. Jim wishes he could've stayed at the museum's opening reception longer, had a chance to look at some of the works in the inner galleries. Unfortunately, he couldn't stay because he has one last event on his schedule. Jim watches the building grow smaller, until it is completely out of sight.

Jim rearranges his jacket and leans further back in the seat. “I hope you had a nice day off yesterday.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kirk.”

Jim’s in a good mood. He’s feeling affectionate today. “However did you cope without me there with you?”

“I managed.” Jim laughs at Spock’s monotone reply, and Spock radiates with satisfaction. Jim catches sight of his reflection of himself in the glass window and can’t help smiling at the sight of his sparkling rosy studs. Jim has worn Spock’s earrings every single day ever since receiving them. Sleep doesn’t come any easier, but Jim wakes up every day feeling more refreshed and alert than ever.

Spock didn’t give Jim anything on his birthday last year, or this year, and Jim has a feeling that it will continue in the years to come. Jim doesn’t mind. He’s thankful for that single lapse of control every day he wakes up and sees the earrings again.

Spock has been their family’s best bodyguard to date. He never gets bored or complacent. The dangers diminish each year with Spock's careful planning, and Winona is clearly impressed. Jim feels closer to Spock than ever before, but he has fallen into a routine of quietly pining from afar. It was during the fourth year of the contract that Jim had decided not to act on his feelings for Spock anymore.

It’s not only because Jim’s worried Spock is confused about he feels about Jim. Jim doesn’t even need to know how Spock feels. Right now to Spock, Jim is his obligation and job. Jim has no place in Spock’s personal life, and he won’t for many more years and likely afterwards. He won’t stop loving Spock, but it’s time he stopped burdening Spock with his own selfishness.

Jim uncrosses his legs and glances at Spock, quiet and steadfast as always. Jim’s happy with this right now. He couldn’t ask for more.

“We will arrive at your next destination in one hour twenty-seven minutes,” Spock says.

Jim checks the car’s navigator and snorts. “The Global? Whoever this person is, they chose an interesting restaurant for a first date.”

Spock glances at Jim, then at the road. “I see. You are agreeing to your mother’s wishes?”

“About time, right?” Jim leans back in the seat, watching the scenery fly by. Winona’s always been pressuring Jim to gain some political advantage for their company through marriage, and Jim had resisted for the longest time. But now - what would be the harm in attempting a little blind date? Jiim’s not going to forget about Spock by just sitting around.

As they approach the restaurant, Jim changes in the car and checks the fit of his blazer using the sun visor mirror. He frowns as he touches up his makeup. “Wait, is today Friday?”

“Yes. Your latest episode of _Quick Question_ will have to wait.”

“Dammit. Well, guess it’ll have to wait for some other time.” Jim and Spock get out of the car, and Jim watches as Spock efficiently gives orders to the other security officers.

Spock gives Jim a final nod. “Have a nice night, Mr. Kirk.”

Jim smiles softly at him before slipping inside to find his room reservation. The date is already waiting for him, and he eagerly greets Jim as he enters. The man's name is Sulu, and he is a head scientist at a pharmaceutical company.Jim recognizes several of the medications he’s formulated.

He's everything Jim would want in somebody. Charming, confident, with the slightest hint of mischief as he teases Jim with clever words and bright eyes.

Jim feeds Sulu bits of his grilled fish with a bright smile and wishes he were back home, watching television and not-so-secretly gauging Spock’s reactions to the outlandish game shows on the screen.

Jim has taken to watching with a notebook and paper in hand, declaring that the most ridiculous of the contestants' answers will become the names of his cafe’s dishes. Spock never responds, but Jim can swear he sees amusement in Spock's eyes every time Jim writes something down.

Sulu's face becomes somber as the conversation shifts. “Unfortunately, there has been a concerning new development we’ve been investigating.”

Jim’s eyebrows raise. “Oh?”

“Are you aware we have been developing a suppressant for Vulcan biological cycles? There’s been a rise in the number of incidents related to irregular occurences of this cycle, almost always resulting in death.”

“Oh. Oh no, that’s terrible.”

“As a result, we have been trying to accelerate development of this suppressant. It would’ve been able to save every Vulcan involved in this unusual phenomenon.” Sulu plays with his water cup, his dessert left unfinished. “God. In a way, I can’t help but feel responsible in some way.”

Jim places a hand over Sulu’s, and Sulu looks up in surprise. Jim says, “You and I know that you can’t blame yourself for that.”

“Okay, Sulu, fun's over.”

Jim blinks up at the sight of a familiar woman in a perfectly tailored suit looming over their table with crossed arms. “Uhura?”

Sulu sputters. “Fucking - what are you doing here?”

“Our coworkers are nosy gossips, it was a matter of time before I heard the news. Jim, Sulu just wants you for money.”

“What?”

“Excuse you,” Sulu scowls. “Maybe I wanted a threesome. Ben’s totally on board for a threesome. He’s the one that made the suggestion.”

“His husband,” Uhura clarifies for Jim, still glaring at Sulu.

Jim’s confusion is trickling into slight bemusement by the turn of events. He can't even be angry at Sulu for trying to take advantage. “This was for the sake of your research, then?”

Sulu slumps back. “Yes, I guess I should apologize but this is something important to me.”

“Far lengths to go through in order to receive funding for your research,” Jim observes mildly as Uhura sits down across from Jim. “Is this related to the kidnappings that were on the news?”

“We’re not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised.” Sulu’s face stays calm, but there’s an underlying turmoil of deep concern.

“I guess in that case, I can understand your motivation.” Jim turns to Uhura. “I remember you mentioning some time ago about your company developing Vulcan mating suppressants.”

Uhura nods. “It’s the same drug. And unfortunately, securing funding for it hasn’t been as simple as we’d hoped it would be. We’re on a grant from the government right now, and it’s nowhere near enough. We’d be gathering financial support from private donors, but the Vulcan Council insists on maintaining - I don’t know, the sanctity of their mating cycle shit by keeping it as private as possible.”

“It’s already relatively well known among peoples that know about Vulcans,” Sulu agrees. “It's not the most ideal situation in the world and we’re getting desperate. I figured this date was worth a shot.” Uhura smacks Sulu, who laughs heartily and punches Uhura back.

Uhura turns back to look Jim up and down. “What are you even doing here, Kirk?”

Sulu chortles as he reaches for another drink. “He’s got a secret husband, too?”

“Almost.” Jim’s spine goes ramrod straight as Uhura smirks. “He’s got a bodyguard he’s sweet on.”

“Scandalous,” Sulu says, while his voice suggests he thinks it’s anything but.

Jim insists, “I am not sweet on him.”

“You’re a terrible liar, and your heart is bleeding out everywhere for him every time I see a picture of you two together.”

Jim is stubborn. “No, I don't have feelings for Mr. Spock in that way.”

Sulu leans forward. “Here’s my advice as a married man: denial never solved anything, ever.”

Uhura rolls her eyes. “Takes one to know one, idiot. I still can’t believe you’re married to Ben.”

“Neither can I.” Sulu’s eyes light up looking at Jim again. “So, spill. What’s the truth?”

“I just told you the truth.” Jim curses his sheepish expression, which Uhura and Sulu have latched onto like twin piranhas. “Stop looking at me. It’s not like that.”

Uhura looks around them. “He’s not here now, is he?”

“No, it’s - look. Even if I did, I couldn’t do that to him.”

Uhura’s eyebrows raise. “Wow. Who are you and what have you done with Jim Kirk?”

All Jim can think about is the day he overheard Sybok and Spock in the hospital, and remember the crushing realization that to Spock, Jim’s nothing but another principal, and Spock’s feelings for him are mistaken. “He deserves better than me.” Jim signals at a waitress walking by and asks for the check. “Sulu, good luck with your research. I’m sorry I can’t help.”

“Good luck with your man. Let me know if you’re still interested in that threesome.” Sulu makes a comm gesture with his fingers and Jim shakes his head with a helpless smile.

Spock almost looks surprised to see Jim return to the car. Jim closes the door and lets out a long sigh. Spock starts the ignition. “You are not going back with your date?”

Jim grins at Spock. “No. Not tonight, Mr. Spock.”

Spock is silent for a while. “I am sorry that it did not work out.”

Jim shrugs. “I'm not, honestly. Let's go home. We might be able to catch the last few minutes of _Quick Question_.”

Spock types something on the navigator and looks back at Jim through the rear view mirror. “We will arrive at the destination in twenty-eight minutes.”

Jim smiles softly at his bodyguard. “Thank you, Mr. Spock. Please proceed.”

“Yes, sir.”


	3. Chapter 3

It’s the fifth year. Jim didn’t mean to get lost.

He turns around in the bustling casino and startles when he realizes he is all alone. He scans the crowd and Spock is nowhere to be seen.

Jim is about to begin retracing his steps to go back to Winona’s reserved private room, only to come face to face with the imposing figure of his bodyguard. “There you are.” Jim exhales. “Where were you?”

“Apologies.” Spock’s eyes are averted. If there hadn’t been the din of the crowd to speak over, he would’ve been muttering under his breath. “There was another in the crowd that closely resembled you from the back. I lost track of you for an instant.”

“He must’ve had one hell of an outfit for you to mistake him for me,” Jim says lightly.

Spock doesn’t offer a reply, but Jim doesn’t expect one. He turns back around to approach the tables again. His pace is less hurried this time.

It’s the seventh year. Jim’s bathroom door opens and Spock steps in. “Mr. Kirk,” he says.

“Just a minute,” Jim grunts, trying to rinse the sudsy shampoo in his hair.

Spock opens the shower door, letting steam billow out. “There is a security watch outside this quadrant of the Mansion. We must relocate you to the other side.”

“Still haven’t washed out all the soap,” Jim complains, shivering and grabbing at his moisturizer as he obediently steps out. “Can you pass me a towel?” Jim gratefully accepts the broad towel handed to him and wraps it around his bare hips.

Spock follows Jim as he slips on his bathroom slippers and heads out of his room, leaving a trail of dripping water.

It’s been three months since Spock’s nine-year anniversary protecting the Kirks. Jim is in a good mood. He’s been cleaning out his office computer, deleting files that are no longer necessary.

Jim blinks as he comes across a group of folders he hasn't thought about in ages. It's the collection of business plans for opening his cafe. Jim opens a file, a wistful smile growing on his face. Some of the points in his plans had become outdated with age, but they could easily be touched up a bit.

Spock moves his arm a little, attracting Jim’s attention instantly. His bodyguard seldom moves, and if he does, there’s a very important reason for it that Jim should pay attention to. Jim trusts Spock like no one else. His instinct has never failed to prove correct.

“Mr. Kirk?” Spock is walking towards him, his hand on his earpiece.

“Yes, Mr. Spock?”

“Please follow me.” Jim follows Spock out to the garage. Everything seems normal, and employees greet Jim as he walks by.

Spock drives away from the company building. “We have a situation,” Spock says once they are an hour or so away.

“I figured as much,” Jim says mildly.

“Gary Mitchell has attempted to assassinate your mother.” 

Jim's blood goes cold. Mitchell is one of their secondary bodyguards. He’s been with their company for over two years.

“Winona is uninjured, and Gary Mitchell has been apprehended. He had been involved in a secret plot with another bodyguard within our staff, but he has refused to name the individual. We are moving your family to the safehouses until we can determine the danger has passed.” Spock looks at Jim through the rearview mirror. “Are you okay, Mr. Kirk?”

Jim curls up in his seat and stares out the window. All he can think about is the fact that he's not wearing Spock's earrings today.

Jim has trouble remembering the last time he’d been forced to hide in a safehouse. He must’ve been twenty-two or so. It had also been due to an assassination attempt on Winona’s life. She’d been on the news recently discussing corporate social responsibility, and apparently her stance had been controversial enough to warrant such violence.

Jim’s never been in this particular safehouse before. It’s on the fringes of a quiet looking neighborhood with a vacant lot to either side. Jim explores the house as Spock talks on the communicator downstairs in the kitchen. Jim doesn’t know if Spock knows that Jim can hear everything.

Jim goes up to the second floor and discovers there is only a sparse storage closet and single bedroom. Jim peeks inside and relaxes only a fraction to see that there are two separate beds on either side of the room.

Hendorff's voice crackles from downstairs. “Mr. Spock, where are you two?”

“We are in the safehouse.”

“Good. Stay there until we have determined if the extent of Mitchell’s contacts extends beyond the single unidentified individual. Do you have anyone that you suspect?”

Spock is silent for a moment. “Mr. Hendorff, how long do you think we will be required to stay contained here?”

Jim doesn’t hear Hendorff’s reply. He moves closer to the stairwell.

Spock’s voice is taut. “Mr. Hendorff, you recall that I am unable to - I must go on leave this week. I will present a hazard to Mr. Kirk.”

“For what reason?”

Spock doesn’t answer. “You must send someone to replace me immediately.”

“This is an emergency, Mr. Spock. We need you to stay. We’re already down at least three guards due to this fiasco. We can’t afford to lose any more.”

“Mr. Hendorff.” Spock’s voice drops. “There is reason to be concerned. I may have been compromised. I accepted a beverage offered to me by Mr. Mitchell before we were informed of his assassination attempt.”

“Was it opened?”

“Of course not.”

“How do you feel?”

“Nothing appears to be amiss so far.”

“If you are capable of monitoring yourself, Mr. Spock, you should do so. Like I’ve said already, we need you to protect Mr. Kirk. This shouldn't last more than five days. I have to go now.”

The call ends. Jim leans against the hallway railing and waits. Spock doesn’t come upstairs to find him, so he abandons his spot to take a shower, puzzling in his mind over the conversation that had happened.

Jim exits the bathroom in a loose bathrobe when Spock strides in. Jim perks up. “Mr. Sp-” Spock nearly flails backwards and slams the bedroom door shut.

Jim stares, nearly slack-jawed. Never in all nine years has Spock acted like that before.

“Mr. Kirk.” Spock’s voice comes through the door, cool and steady as if nothing had happened. “We are to establish some ground rules. First of all, we are not to be in the same room unless we are both completely clothed. Second, we are not to be in the same room at night or whenever you are reclining or asleep. If you are moving into another room, you must warn me in advance. You are not to speak to me while I am in mediation.”

Jim blinks.

“Do I need to repeat myself, or are these rules clear to you?”

“N-no, I got it.” So that means Spock will stay outside until morning? Jim’s frown deepens as he goes to find a t-shirt and boxers in the closet. Thankfully everything still fits him. Jim wants to ask Spock why he’s established such firm barriers all of a sudden, but he has a feeling there’s no point in asking. He’ll just get ignored again, like usual.

Jim switches off the light and settles into bed. The digital clock says it’s past midnight, but it doesn’t feel like it. The unfamiliar smell of the bedsheets fills Jim’s nostrils.

Jim raises his eyebrows as the doorknob turns and Spock steps inside. It hasn’t been ten minutes since Spock made his rules.

Spock avoids eye contact. “We are to remain at least six feet apart at all times. I shall meditate now.”

“Very well, Mr. Spock,” Jim says softly.

Spock sits on the far edge of the other bed, testing his earpiece receiver repeatedly. The ominous red numbers of the bedside clock glow, the only light in the dark bedroom.

Five days go by quickly. The safehouse is well stocked, and anything they need is available. The only ongoing problem is the strange tension in the air.

Spock mostly ignores Jim as Jim moves around in the kitchen and main room, but somehow Jim can feel more than ever, how acutely Spock’s attention is trained on him. Spock maintains the six-feet rule with unyielding tenacity, moving away from Jim if he gets too close. Jim knows he’s trying to stay in contact with Hendorff and the other guards, but each day brings less optimism and fewer updates on the situation.

The tension is close to feeling unbearably claustrophobic when Jim gets up from the couch to put aside his PADD. Spock is sitting at the kitchen island with his comm in hand. “Mr. Spock, I’m going to the bathroom to shower.”

Before Jim can go upstairs, Spock is standing on the carpet in front of him, most definitely not keeping the six-feet rule and moving closer still. His eyes are wild, and his cheeks are tinted with color. He’s close enough to kiss Jim if he leaned any closer. Jim can’t move.

Immediately Spock shoves Jim back with wide eyes. His strength sends Jim sprawling onto the couch. Jim regulates his voice, trying to keep it steady. “Mr. Spock?”

“No,” Spock breathes, his words ragged. “This is not right. I - I do not understand.”

Jim’s worry is mounting. “Mr. Spock, what's wrong?” Jim stares as Spock begins to pace the room, running his hands through his hair in clear agitation. Jim wants to look away. He wants to leave. He feels like he’s seeing something he shouldn’t be watching.

“Mr. Kirk-” Spock stops. He tries to speak again and fails. He attempts again. “I do not expect you to recall, but during the second year of my contract-”

“You were sick then, too. You took leave for a week, and then-” _You manhandled me into the wall and we tried to pretend like nothing happened._

Spock hesitates. Jim calmly asks, “What is it?”

“It is the pon farr.” Spock’s head stays bowed. “It is a highly private matter within Vulcan society, and there are very few outsiders who know of it. Every seven years, our minds give way to our biology, and we must submit to the time of mating or risk our lives.”

“Fuck.” Jim feels hot and cold at the same time. “Who’s your mate?”

“I have none. I have been enduring my time in solitude.” Spock shudders. “It is not an ideal arrangement. Due to the consecutive unconsummated pon farrs, the madness has been increasingly severe with each cycle, a mental state that is linked to a higher probability of death.”

“No,” Jim says immediately. He stands. “Mr. Spock, you have to let me help.”

“Nothing of the sort will happen,” Spock snaps.

Jim’s anger bubbles over. “You’re being awfully dismissive of me, don’t you think? It’s just sex. We can handle this and move on.”

“We will wait,” Spock says in a strained voice. As he speaks, he slowly loosens his tie, exposing a sliver of neck. Jim stares in bewilderment at the exposed skin.

Spock clears his throat and lets go of the tie. He hasn’t noticed Jim watching. Jim shakes his gaze from Spock’s neck and tries to refocus. “So what? We do nothing and let you die? I can’t let that happen.” Jim reaches out to touch Spock’s shoulder.

“Mr. Kirk, do not touch me - _red_.” The safeword makes Jim halt instantly. Spock turns away with difficulty. “Do not come any closer. We will wait. This anomaly is almost over, you will be transferred to safety and I shall deal with my own needs accordingly. I should not go into pon farr for another five days. I will meditate. You should sleep now.”

“Okay.” Jim turns to go, only to be held back. He looks down at Spock’s grip on his arm. He looks back up. Spock blinks at his own hand, then looks helplessly at Jim. Jim sighs and allows Spock to accompany him upstairs to the bedroom. Thankfully, Spock manages to let go before Jim goes into the bathroom.

There’s no way Jim’s going to be able to sleep in this environment. Spock’s presence is burdensome as Jim drops onto the edge of one of the beds and curls his arms around himself. Spock has stopped pacing to sit on the other bed, every movement restrained and short.

Eventually Jim lies down with his head resting on a pillow. He stares at the wall, sleepless in apprehension.

He hears fabric, and can’t help looking over. Spock has removed his jacket. His shirt sleeves are uncuffed and being incrementally peeled back. Jim forces himself to look away. He sternly reminds himself he’s had sex with this man, he’s seen him completely naked. He shouldn’t be reacting like this. The berating thoughts dissipate every time another hint of skin is revealed. Now Spock’s sleeves are up to his elbows.

Jim says hesitantly, “Mr. Spock, if this is because of me-”

“Do not speak. You are disturbing my meditation.”

Jim falls silent. Spock breathes slow and deliberate while he fiddles with his earpiece. There’s nothing but static.

Spock’s tie is on the floor and his sleeves are rolled up over his biceps, revealing the inner skin of his elbows. God, it’s fucking Victorian how Jim’s reacting to the exposed skin of Spock's wrists and forearms and neck.

It’s been nighttime for several hours now. Spock is leaning back on his arms. He is beginning to pant heavily, straining to remain still. Jim realizes there is a large bulge visible in Spock's pants, visible against his fly. Jim has only known Spock's compact genitalia, he wasn't this size even when fully erect. Jim doesn't know what's happening now. He sits up, and Spock's eyes rivet onto him. Jim stops.

Without breaking eye contact, Spock moves towards him. His eyes are darker than Jim's ever seen them. “Mr. Spock,” Jim says.

Spock halts, and a flash of terror crosses his face. “I'm so sorry.”

Jim stammers, trying not to let his welling panic show in his voice. “What should I do? Should I prep myself?”

“I think it's too late,” Spock says in a barely recognizable voice. “You must get away from me now.”

Fear bursts inside Jim and he leaps up to make a dash for the door. Before Jim can even cross halfway across the room, Spock grabs him and flings him back. Jim cries out as his shoulder slams into the wall. Jim shakes his head, trying to focus through the agony. Spock is stalking towards him. Jim grips his throbbing shoulder and backs into the corner - there’s nothing within reach to throw at Spock. The only exit is barred by Spock’s approaching body.

Jim keeps his voice clear and soft. “Spock. It’s me.” Spock is crouched low and still moving closer. There’s no recognition in his glassy eyes. Jim tries speaking louder in a firm tone. “Mr. Spock.”

Spock grabs Jim's shoulders and closes his teeth over the exposed skin of Jim's neck. The pain is excruciating. Jim grits his teeth and struggles to break free, but the show of resistance seems to only fuel Spock’s severity, and he bites harder. Jim stops moving, afraid of Spock’s teeth drawing blood. It might already be too late, judging from the building agony.

Spock whirls Jim around, and Jim fights as Spock slams his head down to the carpet. Momentarily disoriented, Jim cannot muster the strength to stop the hand roughly groping and squeezing between his legs. He tries to loosen Spock's grip and roll away, but he finds himself with his arms pinned behind his back. The shoulder that slammed into the wall is white pain. Jim can't escape. He can’t control his frantic breathing.

“Red,” Jim says as he desperately tries to signal. “Red! Spock! Stop!” Spock is grinding down against his ass, but Jim isn’t aroused at all. “This isn't you, this isn't you, _Spock_.” Jim sobs as he receives another vicious bite to his neck. “Please stop, please! Red!”

The only response Jim gets is strong fingers ripping down his pants and underwear all at once. Jim can feel Spock's erection on his thigh, heavy and dragging dampness across his skin. Jim tries to break free again. Spock forces Jim up to his knees and presses against his entrance. Jim can't bear down, the panic is making him tense against the intrusion. Spock pushes harder. Jim feels as if he is being split apart. Burning friction fills him until he feels like he can't contain it anymore. Jim screams.

The thrusts are frenzied and brutal, increasing in speed. Jim chokes at the smell of iron and squeezes his eyes shut, but it only makes him more acutely aware of the cock thrusting into him. Spock’s broad hand claws to Jim’s face, finding his meld points. His nails cut into Jim’s cheek, but it’s nothing compared to the piercing mind meld, tangling around Jim’s discordant thoughts, dragging them through his mind.

Jim feels come rushing inside him, hot and trickling out of him down his thighs, mixing with his blood. Spock is still hard inside him, and he begins thrusting violently again. The pain is too much, the edges of Jim's vision are going dark, but the moment Jim breaches merciful unconsciousness, Spock’s hand on Jim’s meld points immediately drags him back out.

Jim feels the scrape of his raw throat with every breath. He can barely whisper. “Spock, stop. Please.”

Spock doesn’t stop.

The first thing Jim notices is the smell of antiseptic. He cracks open his eyes and sees white. Everything is numb and distant.

“Jim.” Winona’s blurry face appears above his. Her voice is full of fear. “Are you awake? How do you feel?”

The fuzziness is beginning to fade. Jim feels his lips move. “Spock.”

“You don’t have to worry about him,” Winona soothes.

“No - where’s Spock? I have to see him.”

“He's been put on a restraining order, Jim. Effective immediately.”

Jim’s eyes snap wide open. “ _No._ ” He struggles to sit up.

“Jim, don’t move!” Winona looks stunned by his vicious response. She urges Jim to lie back down. “The doctor’s coming right now. You stay right there.”

Jim opens his mouth again, then closes it upon the realization that he recognizes the person stomping through the door. Someone he hasn’t seen in years. “Doctor - you’re Professor Spock’s husband.” Jim turns to Winona. “What is he doing here?”

“I agreed to treat you and stay discrete about it,” Doctor McCoy says, scanning Jim with a medicorder. “It’s best for everyone, especially my brother-in-law.” Jim feels cold again. Doctor McCoy turns off his medicorder and holds up a chart filled with writing. “You’ve lost a lot of blood but the regenerators have done their job. You’ll make a full recovery in less than thirteen hours. We've tested you and conducted a full body examination. The evidence is collected if you need it.”

“Don’t need it,” Jim says loudly over whatever Winona was about to say. Jim sits up, ignoring the pain inside him, and turns on Winona with a glare. “You don’t understand. I wanted to help him. It was - the way it turned out, Spock couldn’t control that!”

Winona is silent. She looks at Doctor McCoy with a saccharine, fake smile. “Doctor, if you could give us a moment.”

The doctor quietly exits. Winona takes a long breath and places her hand over Jim's. “No more lies, Jim. It's okay, you're safe now.”

Jim feels a sinking feeling growing in his stomach. “What did you make Spock tell you?”

Winona is silent as she looks at Jim for a long time. “Even after all he’s done, of course it’s his side you’d be on.” Winona crosses her legs in the plastic hospital chair and pulls up a PADD. “The doctor’s report was incriminating enough as it was, but after we sorted out the mess with Gary Mitchell, Spock confessed to everything that he’d done. I was informed of his inappropriate relations with you. Also, theft is among his crimes.”

“What the fuck?”

“He handed this back to me.” Jim almost stops breathing when he sees the rose gold watch in Winona’s grasp. He carefully takes it, cradles it in both hands. It’s the watch he had forgotten in Spock’s hotel bathroom the night they slept together years ago. He’d completely forgotten it exists. Had Spock kept it that long?

Winona takes advantage of Jim's abrupt silence. “There’s no point in trying to help Spock anymore. Besides, no one knows where he went.”

The pit in Jim’s stomach goes black and bottomless. “What did you do?”

Winona’s hard gaze doesn’t waver. “I gave him an ultimatum. Either quit or be dismissed with disgrace.”

“No, there must be some way to contact him.” The anger returns. “The ten years he shared with me - that he spent protecting me with his _life_ \- does that mean nothing to you?”

Winona’s eyes are cold. “It means too much, Jim.” She gets up and exits.

Jim wants to yell after her. _What the fuck is that supposed to mean?_ Jim snarls at the empty room. He wants to throw something, hear the satisfying crash as it breaks. Yes, Jim had decided to stop waiting for Spock out of consideration for Spock's feelings, but why did it have to end like this? Spock had left without even saying goodbye.

Jim buries his face into the hospital pillow and cries himself to sleep.

After lengthy interrogation, Winona and her people determine that Gary Mitchell had no further conspirators. Jim ignores Winona when she tries to discuss it with him. Even though the decision Spock had made for them was to terrible detriment, Jim’s already forgiven him. He wants Spock back. He wants him in his room with his sturdy presence and soft breaths.

Jim stays in bed a week after returning from the hospital, only getting up to use the bathroom or stand under the scalding water of his shower. Old fears spring back, and Jim refuses to leave the confines of his room to exercise or obtain food. Sometimes he accepts the soup from the full tray of food offered to him three times a day. Usually he lets everything sit untouched.

He doesn’t recognize the bodyguard currently in his room. He must be the new hire. Jim can tell the bodyguard finds Jim’s behavior frustrating, infantile even. He’s not the only one that finds Jim exasperating.

“ _Jim,_ ” George says as he rolls through Jim’s doorway. The bodyguard has relocated outside the room. “Still hiding in bed?”

Jim closes his eyes. He waits for George to say something else in disappointment, to sigh.

He doesn’t. “We treated Spock like our own son,” George says.

And then Jim understands what his mom had said - that it meant too much, what Spock had done. Winona had trusted Spock, and she barely trusts anyone. Not even her own family.

George speaks again. “We didn’t act in the best manner, I’ll admit it, Jim. We felt betrayed by his choices. We never thought he’d break policies and sleep with you.”

“He didn’t know,” Jim says, broken. “ _I_ didn’t know. If I’d known, I never would’ve slept with him in the first place.”

A long pause. “What?”

“We slept together before I learned he’s a bodyguard, hired by Winona no less, and he didn’t know that I was Winona’s son.” Jim turns to look up at George’s confounded expression.

George leans forward. “What about after you found out? After he became your personal guard?”

“We never touched each other. I - I mean, of course I tried to make a pass more than once, but I knew he wouldn’t say yes to me.”

“I’m realizing there’s been several misunderstandings,” George mutters. “And the pon farr?”

“I tried to tell Mom, but she didn’t listen. I encouraged him. I told him to get the mating over with and Spock tried to refuse me for as long as possible, to protect me. He thought help would be there soon. I wanted to respect his choice, so I waited.”

“I see. It’s not so simple,” George finally says.

“No, it’s not,” Jim agrees. His voice drops. “I miss him.”

“What’s been done has been done, Jim.”

“I know. And I still miss him.”

George doesn’t reply for a long time. Finally he wheels back and turns around. “I think I need to talk to Winona.” George leaves.

That night, Jim’s stomach aches, and he has a headache. He thinks it might be the food he tried a bite of earlier this afternoon. It had a sight tang to it that had made Jim stop eating. He's incredibly sleepy, he can't keep his eyes open. He feels sleepier than he’s felt in a long time. His exhaustion must be catching up with him.

Jim closes his eyes and dreams of a shadow that hunts after him. It's holding a long stake in its hand. Jim wakes up before the shadow can grab his ankle and twist around his spine. Jim doesn’t fall asleep after that.

Jim’s in bed when the new bodyguard approaches one afternoon. “Winona says to come to her office.”

Jim turns the other way, head on his pillow as he stares at the wall.

“Mr. Kirk, you are being unreasonable. There is absolutely nothing to fear, do not make your mother wait.”

Jim remembers the first bodyguard his mom had hired. The old bodyguard had mocked Jim’s fear. Spock would understand. He would listen to Jim without asking for his reasoning why he refused to go out. Spock wouldn't force Jim to leave.

“It will be fine. Trust me. Don't be embarrassing, Mr. Kirk, let's go. Chop chop.” Jim feels pressure coiling around his wrist, trying to pull him out of bed, out the door.

He thrashes and kicks and screams until he feels like his lungs are giving way. Something’s pressed over his nose and mouth. Jim slips into the darkest sleep he’s experienced in years.

“Jim?”

Something’s stroking his arm. Jim grunts and tries to move away from the touch.

“Jim, wake up.”

There’s a strange, metallic taste lingering on Jim’s tongue. He cracks his eyes open to see someone he doesn’t recognize sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. Jim sits up and realizes his clothes are different. Soft robes replace the clothing he had been wearing yesterday.

“Good afternoon,” comes a smooth voice. “You’re finally awake. My name is Ayel.”

Jim thinks he can recognize him, but he can't remember where or how. “Where am I?”

“You are finally safe in my residence, on the beautiful planet of Romulan,” the individual says. “My lovely soulmate.”

Jim squints. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are.”

“I am your perfect lover, Jim Kirk. Your soulmate.”

“Okay - I feel like there has been some sort of drastic misunderstanding,” Jim says, refusing to let panic well up in his chest.

The individual - a Romulan - calling himself Ayel puts his hand back on Jim's arm again. Jim moves it away. Ayel is frowning. “Jim, there’s no need for this show of resistance.”

“What the fuck? You’ve _kidnapped_ me.”

“No, I have brought you to your proper place, by my side. I knew we were meant to be together the moment I laid my eyes on you.” Ayel takes something from the bedside table. It’s a remote control, which Ayel points at the screen at the other side of the room. The screen flickers to life.

Ah, fuck. It’s that old viral video clip of the falling chandelier and Spock throwing Jim out of harm’s way. Jim finds himself watching with rapt attention as the video shows Spock touching Jim. Ayel speaks up. “It has taken so long for us to be united, my love. Your Vulcan bodyguard’s telepathy repelled those I sent to retrieve you.”

“My - my bodyguard?”

“All Vulcans are proximity telepaths to some degree. He must have misconstrued their good intent and turned them away before they could reach you. ”

Jim turns away, shaken. “I didn’t know. He’s been reading my mind without me knowing this whole time?”

“So many lies, Jim Kirk,” the Romulan murmurs, leaning closer to Jim. “So many lies. You see why I had to get rid of him, don’t you?”

Jim wraps his robe tighter around himself. “What did you do to him?”

“I needed to dispose of him permanently. I received assistance from a group of Romulans that are investing in biological warfare. They’ve figured out how to convert Romulan droproot into a libido-inducing hormone, Jim. It’s proven highly effective against Vulcans. I used a dose to taint that Vulcan bodyguard’s drink.”

“Why would you do that to him?” Jim demands, feeling his heart wrenching apart all over again.

Ayel holds Jim’s hands in his own. “Because we are soulmates, Jim Kirk. We belong to each other in every universe.”

“Soulmates are not real,” Jim says flatly.

“On the contrary, my love,” Ayel says brightly, “They’re very real.”

Jim shakes off the Romulan’s hands. “They’re not. How about you let me go free if you really love me?”

“You only need some time to adjust to this new situation. I’ll give you a moment to yourself. If you need me, I will be in my quarters. Come find me when you’re ready.”

Jim scowls at Ayel's back as he exits. He’s determined never to look at the Romulan’s face ever again.

There's a guard outside Jim's door, and Jim wonders how closely the room is being monitored. He wonders how long it’ll take before someone’s noticed that he’s gone. He's been spending all day in his room, with the only points of contact being his bodyguard kidnapper and the staff person providing him food, who come to think of it, must've been drugging Jim's food to attempt to get him to fall asleep.

Drug. What the hell was that drug Ayel was talking about? Jim freezes where he is sitting on the bed. Does this mean Ayel induced Spock's pon farr?

Jim suddenly recalls something he’d forgotten about from years ago. He dashes to the room’s computer and powers it up. He opens a browser and looks up the mining planet Haoh IV, and sure enough, the planet’s surface is described to hold an abundance of droproot, the plant that Ayel had been talking about.

Winona and the Federation had been attempting to secure the planet for themselves years ago, only to be met with resistance from Romulans with elusive motives. The Romulans had eventually won it, because Winona decided the mediocre concentration of mining minerals wasn’t worth the trouble. The Romulans must’ve been seeking the prevalent aphrodisiac plant growing on the planet’s surface.

That must mean that somewhere in this house, within Ayel’s access, there is information about the Romulans he has been in contact with. If Jim could figure out who’s been producing these illegal libido hormones, where they’ve been developing them. . .

Jim isn’t surprised to see the multiple security measures placed on the internal data storage. Wherever he looks, there’s restricted access everywhere. Jim’s going to have to wait it out here until he can figure out how to access them whether from this computer or from Ayel’s.

Jim turns the computer back off and goes to the doorway. He allows the guard to lead him up two flights to a room with a towering ceiling and intricate windows. A poster bed sits at the very end. God, Jim hates it.

“Jim?” Ayel gets up from his desk chair, looking at him with curiosity. Without a word, Jim steps closer to the Romulan and kisses him, deep and hopefully with a tinge of desperation.

Delighted, the Romulan reciprocates the gesture. His unfamiliar arms wrap around Jim, pulling them closer to the edge of the bed. Jim cedes to the movement, falling on top of the mattress and crawling on top of Ayel to kiss him again. His robes are being removed and tossed aside.

Ayel finishes removing Jim’s inner wear and slips his fingers up Jim’s bare thighs. “You have come to your senses, then, my love?”

“Of course,” Jim says lightly, settling on the Romulan’s lap. “You’re my soulmate, after all.”

Jim scratches another discreet mark at the bottom of the ugly bedpost and counts. It’s been sixteen days since he woke up in Ayel’s mansion. He still hasn’t figured out how to access Ayel’s data reserves or establish contact with his family without getting caught, but he’s feeling optimistic. He’s located Ayel’s large collection of blocking transceivers to bypass the computer’s security triggers. Now he needs some time alone, without Ayel breathing over his shoulder at his every movement.

Unfortunately, that time becomes more limited as the days pass. The first time Jim had thrashed awake in Ayel’s arms in the middle of the night, Ayel had prescribed a sleep aid supplement. Jim has tried sleep regulation hormones before that did absolutely nothing for his insomnia and nightmares. He had been expecting the same for this supplement, and had been shocked to wake up and figure out he’d lost an extra day and night to sleep.

Ayel seems to prefer it. He likes Jim asleep, docile, controllable and immobile in his bed. It’s creepy as fuck. Jim’s just lucky Ayel is lacking the depth of psychic ability most Romulans are known to possess.

Jim is torn. When he avoids taking the sleep aid supplement, he risks drawing the Romulan’s suspicions. However, as dangerous as it is, it feels incredible to pass out into blackness without being roused by the terrifying shapes of his nightmares. He has no idea if the medicine is addictive or if it has any negative side effects, and he doesn’t want to take it long enough to find out. He’s going to need to work faster.

Jim goes into the bathroom and pulls out a robe to wear. He’s almost finished tying it when Ayel returns inside the bedroom. “Jim,” he calls.

“Here,” Jim says back, exiting the bathroom.

Ayel takes Jim’s face in his hands and kisses him. “You’re safe, my love? No one has approached you?”

“No. What’s going on?”

“An intruder was recently caught on the premises.” Ayel is scowling. “We are trying to determine if he had any assistance in advancing this close to the house.” Ayel urges Jim to follow him. “He is being monitored in one of the vacant offices. We will go identify him.”

They reach the empty hallway and Ayel opens the door. There’s a flurry of movement ongoing in the corner, with Romulan guards swearing and fighting to control the man they have apprehended.

It’s Spock. Gone is his standard uniform, replaced with an unassuming jeans jacket and grey trousers. His eyes are fierce as he manages to knock back one of the Romulans with a swift kick to the chest. Jim might start crying. He should’ve known. Spock will always return when Jim needs him most.

“We found him on the outskirts of the perimeter trying to hack into the camera system,” the Romulan says as Spock fights the grip on his arm.

 _Fuck fuck fuck._ Jim is finding it hard to breathe. This has gotta be the absolute worst timing that has ever occurred in Jim's entire life.

“What do you think these are?” Jim watches in horror as another Romulan tugs one of Spock’s hearing aids from his ear. “Looks as some sort of assistive implementation.” They take his other hearing aid and deposit Spock onto the ground. Spock kneels up and stares at Jim in Romulan robes, pressed to Ayel's side. After seeing nothing but glimpses of emotion though Spock's reserved face, it's almost terrifying to see his open bewilderment.

“Ambassador Ayel,” Spock says in shock.

“Mr. Spock,” Ayel huffs. “Fancy finding you here.”

Spock is aghast, looking from Ayel to Jim. “Mr. Kirk, what has he done to you?”

 _Ignore, avoid, bluff._ Just until he can find the contact information of Ayel’s connection. Jim needs more time. Jim clutches Ayel tighter, looking down at Spock in disdain.

“Your mind has been disillusioned. You have been brainwashed,” Spock says, desperation in his eyes.

Ayel snorts. “Nothing of the sort has occurred, Vulcan. It is a completely consensual unity that we have both chosen.”

“If you let me meld with you,” Spock pleads to Jim.

Jim flinches back. “You really think I'd let you touch me after what you've done?”

Spock is frozen. Ayel laughs heartily. Clearly he’s enjoying the exchange. “Go on, then, Vulcan. I’ll be generous and give you a minute. Say what you have to say to my mate.”

Spock raises his head to face Jim. He has never seen Spock look so vulnerable.

“Jim.”

And that one syllable fucks with Jim more than anything. When Spock was under contract, it had always been ‘Mr. Kirk’. Spock didn’t even call Jim by his name when they had first met and slept together. Spock had used Jim’s fake pseudonym.

It’s the first time Jim has heard Spock say his name and he has to act like he couldn’t care less.

“You do not need to listen to what I say.” Jim hears Spock’s fresh pain with every word. “I broke my promise to you, to protect you. I don’t ask for forgiveness, or the right to pursue you once more, but you deserve to understand. The realization of you being the man I had shared intimacy with alarmed me, and I acted inappropriately. I was under the impression, based on what I discovered about James Tiberius Kirk, that I had been merely one of many conquests, and I - could not remain impersonal. I wanted you only for myself, and I could not accept that you did not desire the same.”

Jim wants to beg Spock to stop talking, to take back everything that’s been laid bare to the fullest extent in front of him and the undeserving Romulan holding Jim in his arms.

“I was in a state of perpetual apprehension. I desired to comprehend with my entire being, to understand why you acted the way you did. Your advances towards myself and others only established further in my mind that your attraction to me was nothing more than a fleeting desire. However, you took great lengths to protect me and my career. Never once did you reveal our history to your mother. When presented with the opportunity, you never made any physical advances.”

Spock shakes his head. “I did the only thing I could think to do. I remained silent. And I tried to forget. I could remain silent. But I - I could not forget. I am still failing miserably. Jim, I don’t know if you can recall, but I still remember when you confessed that you desired to be loved rather than protected.” Spock lifts his head a little higher. “Please believe me. All those years, you were always loved, Jim. I never stopped loving you.”

Stifling silence falls between them.

Ayel closely watches Jim’s face. Jim doesn’t dare look Spock in the eye. “I can’t believe your fucking nerve.”

Spock’s breath hitches.

“Look, I tried, alright?” Jim’s voice is so, so bitter. “I was heartbroken, but I tried to be understanding. I wanted to know if I meant anything at all to you, but I stopped pushing. You knew that whole time how much I wanted you, but I held myself back and waited.” He doesn’t have to fake the hurt in his voice. “But what did that get me in return? You ignored me. You made me feel like nothing. I trusted you, and you raped me in return.”

Spock makes a small, wounded sound and Jim’s heart feels like it’s about to splinter and tear him apart with ragged, sharp edges. Jim buries his face into Ayel’s neck and forces his mouth to keep moving. “Have you forgotten that you’re still on a restraining order? Just looking at you makes me want to kill myself. Don’t ever come near me again.”

Ayel soothes Jim with a gentle embrace and strokes to his back, but all Jim can hear is the sound of stifled sobs near his feet. Ayel is giving orders to secure Spock in one of the storage facilities in the basement until they’ve decided what to do with him. “Come, love.” Ayel guides Jim away from Spock, out of the room and to his bedroom.

Jim allows himself to break down. He feels something holding him as he sobs, but he doesn’t care. His vision is blurry but all he can see is Spock with agonizing clarity, how absolutely crushed he’d looked. That was all Jim's fault, god, did he have to go that far to divert Ayel? How could Spock ever smile at him again, after saying things like that to him?

Ayel is removing Jim's clothing, kissing his neck as he tilts Jim back onto the bed. Jim barely tolerated their intimacy before, but now he could almost welcome the distraction of the friction on his skin, tight around his cock bringing him closer and closer to release.

Jim feels something tingling inside his mind. He can feel it on the outskirts of his consciousness, reaching for his soul, and Jim backs away from the sensation. The low buzz fades away and Ayel frowns. “My lovely mate, we have already consummated our marriage. Surely a bond is the proper subsequent action.”

Jim shakes his head mutely and returns his attention to Ayel’s body with a fervor. His climax peaks right after Ayel’s, abrupt and nearly unpleasant. Both are panting for air as Ayel curls up around Jim and presses a kiss to his parted lips. “Does the prospect of a bond trouble you, Jim?”

“I want the occasion to be special, you know?” Jim strokes Ayel’s face. “Not because some Vulcan compelled us to.”

“I see.” Ayel smiles, lying back against the pillow with eyes closed. Jim watches warily as the Romulan’s breathing slows. Once he’s certain Ayel has fallen asleep, Jim heaves himself to his feet. He washes off his face and hands hastily before dressing and slipping out of the bedroom.

Jim nods at the guard that is in front of Ayel’s study and enters. He had been granted further access within the large house the longer he had been with Ayel, and now Jim’s allowed to go where he pleases.

Jim sits at the computer and locates the port to insert the cable of one of the blocking transceivers he had taken from Ayel’s shelf earlier. The computer blinks to indicate Jim has received access. Jim bites his lip as he scrolls through the files, trying to locate key words for what he’s trying to find. The data reserves are extensive, but well-organized and thorough. Jim fumbles for a small micro card and selects several files to copy over. He’s located exactly what he wants.

The moment all the information is downloaded, Jim extracts the chip and blocking transceiver and walks back out of the study.

Jim replaces the blocking transceiver and its cable before going into the closet to change out of the robes to a simple shirt and trousers, foregoing the ridiculous outerwear for a light sweater. He slips the micro card into his sock and puts comfortable shoes on, making sure the card won’t be jostled loose no matter how hard he runs.

There’s only one obstacle left now.

Ayel had ordered for Spock to be taken to one of the empty storage rooms. The access is simple enough, Jim already has the key to all the rooms and no one is keeping watch nearby. There’s only one room with the door closed. Jim unlocks the door and slips inside.

Spock is huddled in the corner of the room, not bound or restrained in any way. His face and shoulders are pressed into the wall opposite from the door. The sight of Spock looking so small shatters Jim's heart all over again.

Jim projects the necessity to be completely silent and gingerly touches Spock's shoulder. Spock stares up at Jim, wide eyes brimming with tears. Jim tries to convey as much as he possibly can, his regret, the need to delay his rescue to access the Romulan ambassador's files, how grateful and awestruck he is that Spock found him. Realization is dawning on Spock's face.

 _Spock, I understand this is a lot to take in, but we need to leave now._ Spock is roused from his stupor and Jim leads him out of the open door.

Now that Spock is within his proximity, Jim wants Spock closer than ever before, but his body is repulsed by him. Just because Jim’s forgiven him, it doesn’t change what his body remembers. It remembers those hands, how they gripped and stroked and ignored Jim's begs to stop. Spock reaches out to gently guide Jim down a hallway, and Jim violently recoils away, which causes Spock to flinch. Spock holds his hands up and away, eyes flickering over Jim’s face, resigned and heartbroken all at once.

Jim wishes he were stronger, that he could ensure Spock never made that expression ever again. “Spock-” Jim sees shadows approaching from behind them. “Oh, fuck.”

Jim grabs Spock’s wrist and they flee as phaser shots echo around them. Shouting echoes down the hallway. Spock grits his teeth and yanks open the door to a stairwell.

Jim rushes down the metal stairs as Spock jams the door behind them. He catches up with Jim in no time at all. “It will not hold long.” There are voices echoing through the doors. “We must locate an exit to the exterior of the building.”

The door to the floor beneath them slams open and two armed Romulans run through. Jim and Spock swiftly backtrack, exiting out of the door closest to them. It leads to a long grey hallway with several doors.

Jim turns the corner and there is a guard waiting with a phaser gun.

Jim throws himself in front of Spock. The split second of hesitation from the Romulan guard is enough for Spock to swiftly pinch his shoulder, dispatching the Romulan instantly.

“Don't do that,” Spock says as they start running again.

Jim grabs Spock's hand. “If they hurt me, they hurt Ayel’s soulmate, which means they won't touch me. Shut up and let me keep us alive.” Jim grits his teeth. “Are you alone? Do we have backup?”

“I require a communicator. They have taken mine.” They exit to another stairwell and scramble down to the floor below.

“Maybe - should we get to the garage? We could steal a car, get out of here.” Jim hears yelling in the background, hears the orders being given to surround them. Jim projects a mental image of the general floor layout. Spock tightens his grip on Jim's hand and guides them in another direction.

Jim gets in front of Spock again as two Romulans approach with phasers, ducking as Spock roundhouse kicks over his head, successfully knocking a Romulan to the ground. The other Romulan keeps trying to get between Jim and Spock, but the hallway is narrow and Jim is completely in sync with Spock’s fierce attacks. The Romulan receives a punch square in the face and missteps, still hesitant to injure Jim while trying to reach Spock.

Spock slams the Romulan into the wall and he slumps to the floor, motionless. Chest heaving, Jim looks back at the other Romulan and realizes he’s sneakily regained footing, phaser pointed directly at them.

“Spock!” Jim shoves Spock out of the way of the incoming fire, and flinches away from a searing heat to his left cheek. Spock is a blur as he lunges at the guard and brutally attacks him. Hand still held over his burning cheek, Jim reaches for Spock as he punches the Romulan over and over again with merciless force. “Spock - Spock! You’ve made your point. We don’t have time.”

Spock doesn’t let Jim drag him away until he’s satisfied the Romulan won’t get up again. Spock takes both phasers from the guards, tucking the extra one in his back pocket. The entrance to the garage is straight ahead, and Spock opens it to reveal a row of hovercars. Jim tests the door of the closest hovercar. It’s unlocked.

“You must drive.” Spock opens the driver’s seat door for Jim before rushing to open the giant garage door. “I suspect I will have to hold off their backup.”

“Oh god, why.” Jim can’t remember the last time he drove a car. He’s always had someone else driving for him. He sits down and jams his thumb to the ignition. “I don’t even remember which pedal is gas and which one’s brake! We’re gonna die.”

“Seatbelt.” Spock swiftly enters the car, buckling his own seatbelt on. “Any direction is fine. Just move away as far as possible.”

Jim grips the steering wheel in two hands and tries to accelerate smoothly, only to shoot out of the garage, scraping the roof against the opening garage door. They nearly flip over the curb before barreling down the road at blinding speed. Spock checks the mirror before tapping something on the navigator screen. “Computer, contact this number.” Jim recognizes the number Spock recites. It’s Winona’s comm number.

Winona picks up instantly. “Mr. Spock?”

Spock wraps his hand around Jim’s bare wrist, and Jim quells the urge to shake it off. “Mrs. Kirk?”

“Mr. Spock, what’s going on?”

Spock leans closer to the navigator screen. “Mrs. Kirk, I have him.”

“Where the hell are you two?”

“We are approaching the seventh district intersection.” Jim can see cars careening from the garage door to pursue them in his rearview mirror, at least four of them. Spock seems to have noticed them as well. “I request you bring aid as swiftly as possible. We are being followed.”

Winona laughs without humor. “What was the point of going alone, Mr. Spock, if you were going to attract this much attention regardless? We’ll be there in approximately two minutes. Stay on call.”

Spock releases Jim’s wrist and unbuckles his seatbelt. Jim’s jaw drops. “Spock? Fucking hell. Don’t you dare.”

Spock’s already rolling down the window, pulling half his body out of the window, phaser gun aimed behind them. The cars in pursuit have rapidly caught up, taking over Jim’s view through the mirror. Jim grits his teeth. He’s had the accelerator fully down, it’s the exact same fucking car, why the fuck are these guys catching up? Did Jim change the car to the wrong gear?

Spock’s phaser flashes and one of the cars spirals into a cloud of dust. “Please keep your eyes on the road,” Spock says as Jim overadjusts for control. Jim is about to spit out a retort before he remembers that Spock wouldn’t hear him, anyways.

Two cars are coming up to flank them, and Spock aims with terrifying accuracy. He slips back into the car, narrowly avoiding a phaser shot to his head. “The phaser is not strong enough to penetrate their windows. These must be fortified.”

Jim watches in horror as one of the cars comes up in front of them, blocking them off. It slowly moves backwards on them. Spock’s hands are clenched around his phaser. “Winona is still some distance off. We must delay them longer.”

Jim can think of only one advantage they have over Ayel and his guards, only one way to keep Spock alive. He puts on the brakes, sending dust flying everywhere as they come to a complete stop.

“What are you doing?” Spock demands.

Jim turns his face away. “If I told you, you wouldn’t let me do it.” Jim gets out of the car, with the phaser he’d stolen from Spock’s back pocket pressed to his own temple.

“ _Jim!_ ” Jim ignores Spock and keeps walking. Ayel is getting out of one of the other cars, and he freezes when he sees what Jim’s doing.

“Stay back,” Jim warns. “Don’t get any closer to me or Mr. Spock. It’s not set on stun.”

“He’s not lying,” a Romulan cries out. “The phaser is set to kill.” Everyone immediately backs off. Jim’s breathing trembles, but he doesn’t remove his hand.

“Jim,” Ayel says very calmly. “Put the phaser down.”

Jim doesn’t move. “I really will do it. Don’t try me.” He hears noise behind him, the stir of helicopter blades.

Ayel’s gaze flickers up before focusing back on Jim again. “Jim, if we leave now, we’ll be able to escape to somewhere they will never find us. Let’s go. You’ll never have nightmares again.”

Jim bows his head, fingers still clenched around the gun at his temple. There’s soldiers in uniform swarming around them. The soldiers subdue Ayel and his guards, putting them in handcuffs. Jim drops his hand, letting the phaser fall to the dirt road. It’s finally over.

Winona appears amongst the crowd of soldiers. She rushes over, wrapping Jim in a hug. Jim buries his face into her shoulder. “Mom, you have to listen to me, I’ve discovered who’s been leading the operations on the biological warfare that’s targeting Vulcans. Ambassador Ayel enlisted his help in order to kidnap me. His name is Nero.” Jim moves back to take the micro card out of his shoe, the precious information on Ayel’s other points of contact, the location of Nero’s base of operations.

Winona holds the card, awe in her eyes. “This is why it took us this long to find you?”

Jim nods and pulls Winona into a hug again. “Sorry for worrying you.”

Winona sighs. “Sounds like you had it all under control.”

“Almost.” Jim grins. There’s shouting somewhere behind him. Jim turns to see Ayel yelling and struggling against the soldiers trying to pull him into the back of a police van.

“We are soulmates,” Ayel repeats. “You cannot do this to us.”

“You are not bonded.” Spock’s voice splits through the din, startling Jim. He’s gotten out of the car, stepping between Ayel and Jim.

Ayel blinks. “Not yet, we have not bonded.”

Spock stands straight, chin tilted up in challenge. “He is mine. I have already claimed him. How do you think I was able to locate him?”

Jim freezes. Ayel’s eyes go wide, and he remains silent as the police finally shove him into the van and close the door. Only then does Spock look weary, as if all the strength in his body had suddenly been drained. Jim grabs Spock’s shoulder, forcefully turning him around so Spock can see his lips. He demands, “Mr. Spock, do you mean to say we’ve been bonded this entire time?”

“Not here,” Winona says, pulling Jim’s sleeve. “Come on.”

Jim allows himself to be led to Winona’s limo, but he can’t bring himself to let go of Spock. Spock quietly follows Jim to the backseat, sitting next to him at his silent urging. Winona sits up front next to her driver. She’s discussing something with the chauffeur in a low voice. Spock’s hands are gentle as they reach out to hold Jim's head. His knuckles are bleeding. He turns Jim’s face slightly, looking at the wound from the phaser blast that caught his cheek. “You are injured.”

“Not badly,” Jim says as the cut stings fiercely.

“Jim.” Spock's head is heavy against Jim's chest, cheek pressed over Jim's heart. “Jim, oh Jim.”

Jim tightens his arms around Spock’s body before adjusting himself into a more comfortable position so that he can recline back with Spock still curled on top of him. Spock doesn’t say anything more. His breathing is soft and gradually steadying. Winona is on another call, and she talks in a low voice as the limo speeds across the plains, surrounded by the procession of armored vehicles.

Winona finally hangs up and turns to look back at Jim. “They got Nero. They’ve arrested him and his contacts. They discovered the entire facility exactly where you said it’d be. They found all of the missing Vulcans, and they’re being examined now. Several will be able to go back to their families before the day’s over.” Winona’s shaking her head in fond disbelief. “I can’t believe it, Jim. I’m still angry you didn’t contact us for help earlier, but you’ve done an amazing job.”

Jim feels a heavy load crumble from his chest. “That’s good. God. I can’t believe everything worked out. Did you hear that, Spock? Well, I don’t mean hear, but - Spock?” Jim realizes that Spock has fallen asleep in his arms.

“He's been searching the last two weeks without food or sleep,” Winona says. “The moment we asked him to come back. Did he fall asleep on top of you?”

“Well, he did find me,” Jim says, carding his fingers through Spock’s dark hair. “I don’t know about you, but I think he deserves a rest after all that.”

Jim feels Spock waking up as a light tremor throughout his body before he goes completely motionless. “Mr. Spock?”

Jim watches Spock's eyes flit open and take in their surroundings. They're still in the back of Winona's car, in the same reclined positions they had been in during the car ride. The artificial light is soft, and they are shrouded in darkness.

“We're safe. We’re inside our garage.” Jim reluctantly lets go of Spock as he breaks free from Jim's grasp to sit on the other end of the seat, head bowed and fists clenched over his knees.

“Jim-” Spock doesn't finish his sentence. Jim sits up, mirroring Spock's posture. Spock looks at Jim’s temple, at Jim’s hands, then deliberately away again. “In the end, you saved your own life, and mine as well.”

Spock freezes when Jim wraps his hand over his. “From what I’ve heard, you’d been doing plenty to prevent this from happening at all.” Jim leans forward. “Winona’s known that you are a proximity telepath.”

“Yes,” Spock quietly confirms. “Every potential household staff was subject to a period of questioning from me. I am able to discern broad states of mind, and whether the individual has the potential to be harmful. I apologize for withholding this knowledge from you.”

“It’s not the only thing you’ve kept from me.”

Spock speaks quickly. “I deemed it necessary to convince-”

“No, not that.” Jim wavers at the thought that Spock’s passionate confession had all been for show, but he keeps speaking. “I’m talking about this bond that you said we share.”

Spock squeezes his eyes shut. “I apologize for the bond, Jim. We can work to dissolve it as soon as we find a Vulcan healer.”

“Wait,” Jim interrupts him and Spock falls silent. Jim takes a breath. “Before we decide anything, explain what this is.”

Spock turns his hand so that he is holding Jim’s hand in his palm. He keeps his head bowed. “It is a very weak one, but it exists. The human equivalent would be a sort of betrothal. Our minds are locked together, our thoughts always touching.”

“How long has it existed? How did it even form?”

“It appears our minds are very compatible,” Spock says softly. “They sought each other out when we were engaged in a prolonged meld. I did not realize until it was far, far too late. The consummation of pon farr only further established the connection, as violent as it was.”

“I can’t feel it,” Jim says. “Can you?”

Spock’s chest heaves. “. . . Yes. Perpetually.” He adds, “However, locating you through our meld was not so simple. It took a great deal of concentration - and luck. I would have had it removed after our night spent together, however the bond could not be removed without the both of us present before a healer. I feared revealing anything about it to you or your family.” That means Spock’s been suffering with this extra burden for almost ten years.

Jim shakes his head. “Spock, can you look at me?” Spock's eyes are focused on their point of connection, their interlocked hands that are the only way Spock can receive Jim’s words. He slowly turns to face Jim, and Jim can’t help feeling his body tense up. He’s still struggling to reconcile all these different personas into a single body - the stoic, ceaselessly reliable bodyguard, the violent Vulcan overcome by the drive of pon farr, and the gentle and affectionate Spock smiling at Jim in his soft pink sweater.

Jim knows what he has to ask, and yet he’s afraid to say it. He shifts, still holding Spock’s hand. “Well, if anything, you were able to use the bond to save me from the ambassador.”

“You still reek of his scent,” Spock mutters before going motionless as a statue.

Jim feels like he has to break the silence. “Well, we’d been having sex every night. It was the only way I could make sure he’d fallen asleep.”

Spock's hand clenches, and Jim has to fight the urge to run. Spock notices immediately and lets go of Jim to spread his hands up and out. “I apologize.”

Jim takes a deep breath, then another. “You’re good. It’s fine.” The awkwardness descends between them again. They could leave the car now. They don’t.

“There was truth in much of what you said to me,” Spock says in a small voice. “At the ambassador’s residence.”

Jim can’t deny Spock’s statement. “I’m sorry for hurting you.” And there’s the opening for _the_ question. _But what about you, Spock? All the things you said, the words you spilled…_ He can’t bring himself to ask. Jim exhales. “I don’t know what to do.”

Spock drops his hands. “I also find myself at a loss on how to proceed.”

Something’s still been bothering Jim. “Mr. Spock?” Spock looks warily at Jim’s mouth. Jim slowly breathes out. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

Jim can almost see Spock thinking, struggling to formulate a response that would be appropriate given their current situation. Spock finally says, “Vulcans believe in Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. It is the basis of Vulcan philosophy, celebrating the vast array of variables in the universe.” Spock hesitates. “According to this philosophy, I can believe that indeed, there must exist a reality somewhere where soulmates exist, or exist across universes.”

“What about our reality, then?”

“Inconclusive.” Spock shakes his head. “And I believe it will always be so.” Spock moves to leave.

Panic skyrockets and Jim grabs Spock’s hand. “Where are you going?”

Spock blinks before his surprise gives way to a familiar calm. “I need to retrieve spare hearing aids. I must also talk to your mother.”

Jim grips Spock’s fingers tighter. “You're not going to leave again, right? Don't leave me.” And it really was that simple in the end, wasn’t it? Just the thought of losing Spock was enough to compel Jim to action, even through a situation as difficult as theirs.

Spock turns to fully face Jim again. “Are you certain that is what you desire?”

Jim squeezes his eyes shut. _Did you really mean it, Spock? Everything that you said to me?_

“Jim,” Spock whispers, and what Jim feels through their touch couldn’t be more unmistakable.

Jim pulls Spock closer. “I don’t want to break the bond,” he says. “And I don’t want you to leave. What about you?”

Spock’s other hand presses over Jim’s. “My wish has always been for you to know that you are loved.”

“And the best way for you to show me that is to not break our bond and stay with me.”

Spock's eyes are almost sparkling. “Is that so?”

“You'd better fucking believe it.”

Spock grips Jim’s hand a little tighter before releasing him. “Although we are in concord, I believe some distance temporarily would be the most favorable option. Get rest and I shall speak to Winona.”

Jim allows Spock to exit the car and go inside. He remains in the car a moment longer before finally going up to his room. Hendorff is standing outside. Jim closes the bedroom door and sighs. He stands under the hot water long enough to almost fall asleep, then he dries himself with sluggish movements before collapsing onto his bed. It feels foreign. Jim had hated sleeping with Ambassador Ayel, but he craves the presence of another breathing body beside him under the covers.

He falls asleep with the rose gold wristwatch twisted around his palm.

He hears the next morning that Spock had left immediately after speaking with Winona. He had left without saying goodbye again.


	4. Chapter 4

Jim opens the bedroom door to see Winona standing in front of it with her own bodyguard close behind. Jim asks, “Did you hire him again?”

“Yes. And no.”

“What does that mean?”

Winona’s expression is difficult to comprehend. Jim wants to turn his face away, suddenly self-conscious. Winona finally speaks. “Mr. Spock will be back on duty this Wednesday.”

Jim’s brow furrows. “So why yes and no?”

“He’s working for us again, but not under contract. Also, he’ll be here later today.” Jim’s heart stutters. Winona looks as if she wants to say something more, but she settles for giving Jim a small nod. “I have to go to work. Make sure you check your email later.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Winona leaves, leaving Jim unsettled. He decides to change out of his sleepwear first, even though it isn’t as if Spock has seen him at his worst. He makes sure to put Spock's earrings on. He is about to leave to find something to eat when someone gently knocks on his door.

Jim opens it to see Spock standing at the threshold. He's not in uniform, but he won't be on duty until the end of the week. He’s wearing visible hearing aids that are a bright red color.

Jim shakes his head. “You really need to stop with your habit of leaving without saying goodbye.”

A ghost of a smile touches Spock’s lips. “It will be the last time I do so. I promise.”

“It better be.” Silence falls between them. Spock looks hesitant to come into Jim’s room. It’s strange, when his role as bodyguard had involved him spending a great deal of time in here. Jim opens the door a little wider. “Come in?”

“Thank you.” Spock takes one step in, and his eyes flicker around, unable to focus on anything. Then he sees the rose gold watch on Jim’s wrist and stills. Jim doesn’t move. “Jim,” Spock finally says. He stops.

Jim waits patiently.

“Would you like to go on a journey with me?”

Jim doesn’t hesitate. “Let’s go. How many days?”

“Three days and two nights.” Spock will be back on duty in the same length of time. Jim nods and sends a notification on his comm about his leave of absence for the next few days. He goes to his closet to find a bag to pack. He finds a hat and mask, just in case. Jim zips up the backpack and returns to find Spock waiting for him at the closed door.

Jim pauses. He dares to reach his hand out, and Spock’s reciprocating grasp is electricity down his spine. Jim says, “You can touch my hands whenever you’d like, but - until I say it's no longer needed, can you warn me before you touch me anywhere else?”

“Yes,” Spock says immediately. “I will not forget.” He lovingly caresses the back of Jim’s hand with a thumb. “As for myself, you may touch me as you please, without fear that I will reciprocate without permission.”

“Then let's start with this.” Jim slips from Spock’s grasp to rest his hands on Spock's shoulders, lacing them behind Spock's neck. Spock's eyes close as Jim tilts his head forward and finally, finally kisses Spock.

Oh, it's pure bliss. Spock caresses Jim's lips with his own, projecting comfort, safety, affection. Jim's wanted to do this for so long, he's close to crying from how full his heart feels. The moment they break apart, Jim ducks back into kissing Spock again, sucking on his lower lip and swallowing the sigh that follows.

Jim finally leans back, watching Spock's face. Spock's eyes open reluctantly, beautiful and dark and brimming with emotion. Jim reluctantly removes his hands. “Sorry, we need to get going, don't we?”

“We are in no rush.” Spock takes Jim's backpack with a faint smile. Jim holds Spock's sleeve and they exit his room. Spock opens the trunk of one of their more discrete vehicles, and there’s already an overnight bag inside for Spock. He places Jim’s bag next to it and closes the door firmly.

“Jim?” Jim looks up upon hearing George’s voice. George stops next to the car, looking them up and down. “You two are leaving now?”

“Yes.” Jim can’t tell if it’s his imagination, but George has the same strange expression on his face that Winona had, something melancholic and resolute at the same time. Spock’s own expression is inscrutable.

“Take care of each other,” George says.

Jim smiles faintly before he enters the passenger seat side of the car. “See you later, dad.” George nods at Spock before moving back a little to give them room to leave.

Spock sits in the driver’s seat. Jim settles in the passenger seat, fastening the seatbelt strap. “Where are we headed?”

“I considered the destination trivial compared to whom I would be sharing the journey with.” Spock doesn’t take his eyes off of Jim, blushing slightly. “Which is to say, I do not have a destination in mind.”

Jim can’t help the smile that curls his lips. And then he ponders. “What do you think of going to the T. Hassam Foundation Museum?”

Spock navigates off the driveway to the road. “I remember that museum. You were present for its opening ceremony?”

“Yes, and then I never actually had the chance to look at the artwork inside. I'd like to go back.”

“It is nine hours away by car.” There's no disapproval in Spock's voice, only gentle caution.

Jim nods. “We can stop somewhere along the way for the night. If you’re okay with it, then I am.”

In response, Spock pulls the car away from the house, down the driveway and to the road.

Being Jim’s primary method of transportation, this car is already equipped with Jim’s essentials for long journeys. He finds a blanket for himself and drapes it over his legs.

The highway is filled with other cars, and Jim watches them as they pass by. The silence feels familiar, reminds Jim of the countless other times Spock and Jim had been in this position, with Spock chauffeuring Jim from one location to another. In some ways, it doesn’t feel very different from how they’d shared the last few years of their lives together.

But then Jim looks over at the driver’s wheel, and instead of his stiff, unresponsive personal guard, there’s someone in soft clothing and visible hearing aids whose gaze flickers when he notices Jim’s attention has been redirected towards him.

And now his hand’s inching towards Jim, palm up. It waits between them. Jim wraps his hand over Spock’s, and feels an unfamiliar current through them as Spock relaxes. _What is that?_

“I have lowered my shields,” Spock explains. “You are experiencing the draw of our mind bond.”

“I see.” Jim holds Spock’s hands a little tighter. The peaceful quiet returns. The highways get smaller with less lanes of cars. Spock turns onto an even smaller interstate highway, and the two-lane road is sparsely occupied. Dense forest fills the road on both sides, filtering the late afternoon light.

Jim feels amusement from Spock when Jim toes off his shoes and socks and tucks his feet under the blanket, crossing his legs in his seat. Jim is humming the tune of something. He doesn’t remember the name of the song or artist, but he knows he heard it from somewhere several times.

The beautiful forested space expands to wide plains of agricultural fields. The vegetation looks dense and lush. Jim sees a family of Klingons among the plants. They blur past as Spock continues driving forward.

Jim perks up, seeing a sign with bright colors. “Let’s stop here.”

He makes sure to put on his mask and hat before following Spock outside the parked car. Spock is also wearing a hat that mostly covers his Vulcan ears. It’s a locally owned rest stop area, with a couple vending machines around the building exterior. There is a restaurant inside with an elegant looking menu. Something catches Jim's eye located between a dining replicator and sonic sinks for handwashing - an ice cream station.

Jim and Spock order lunch, and then Jim wanders over to the ice cream vendor. “Coconut sorbet, please,” Jim says after scanning the entire selection twice.

The sorbet is served in a pretty waffle cone, and Jim brings it to the table where Spock is sitting down with their tray of food. It's really, really good sorbet.

Spock's gaze burns into Jim's. Jim feels his eyebrows raising against his will. “What?”

Spock takes Jim's hand in a delicate grasp and leans over to sample the last of the frozen dessert and cone, licking the tips of Jim's fingers where melted sorbet had dripped down. Jim feels his face heat up. “Uh-?”

Spock lets go of Jim to stab a fry into a small container of tomato ketchup. “I have not been particularly fond of your proclivities towards easy distribution of your meals to others.”

It takes Jim two seconds to translate. “You’re jealous of me sharing food? With who?”

“The entrepreneur's daughter,” Spock points out.

“Daughter?”

“The one with the red hair.”

“. . . Gaila?” Jim has to laugh. “Spock! That date with Gaila happened _years_ ago. You still remember that?”

Spock scowls. Jim stifles his giggles and holds out a yucca fry in front of Spock's mouth in apology. Spock's teeth graze against Jim's fingers as he takes the fry between his lips, not breaking eye contact with Jim.

Jim shakes his head fondly. He ends up feeding both of them, dipping the fries into the ketchup before offering them to Spock.

They are only about half done with their meal when Spock tilts his face down and towards Jim, the brim of his hat bumping into his. Jim's heart rate spikes, anticipating an unexpected kiss, but Spock only mutters, “It appears you have been identified.”

Jim surreptitiously looks up to see two customers sitting some distance away, whispering behind their hands and staring at him. Jim had left his hat on, but he had to remove his mask in order to eat. Now there's a comm camera pointed at him, and Jim's good mood wanes immediately. Spock frowns a little. “I have received adequate sustenance. Would you like to leave now?”

“Yeah. Let's stop by the restrooms before we leave.” Jim and Spock tidy after themselves, and Jim puts the tray into the cycler before following Spock out.

Night creeps over the sky and road. Jim and Spock have long finished the vegan snacks they purchased from the vending machines, and Jim’s face is turned towards the dark sky speckled with starlight. There’s soft music playing from the car radio, with indistinguishable vocals.

Jim’s legs are tucked under the blanket again. His hand is held by Spock’s. The initial obstacle of silence has been breached, and Jim shares soft conversation with Spock, small things that don’t mean very much and mean everything at the same time. Shows on television, Hendorff’s new engagement, Captain Michael’s latest letters to her siblings from a starship somewhere light years away.

It’s past midnight by the time either thinks to stop for the night. Spock pulls into the first roadside hotel that they see. It’s a motel with questionable quality, but it’s far better than sleeping in the car.

Spock and Jim take their bags and enter the building to find the automated receptionist at the front desk. Spock requests for a room under his name.

The unit looks from Spock to Jim. “A single room?”

“Yes, please,” Jim says.

“And will that be one bed or two?” The receptionist waits. Spock glances at Jim, but he finds himself tongue tied.

Spock turns back to the receptionist. “Two beds. Thank you.”

They find their room on the second floor and enter the sparse room. It smells faintly of vintage potpourri. Spock sets his bag down next to one bed and immediately turns on the sonic kettle for hot water. “Would you like to use the bathroom first?”

“Oh.” Jim assumes Spock isn’t willing to shower together by asking him that question. The shower would probably be too small for both of them, anyways. Not that Jim could care less, but maybe Spock is still uncomfortable with the idea. “Sure, I can shower first.”

Jim opts for a rapid, thorough sonic shower before brushing his teeth and shaving. Belatedly, he realizes he’d forgotten to bring clothing into the bathroom to change into, and he exits the bathroom with a towel around his torso. “I’m done,” he says to Spock, who has been sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning forward to watch the dim television screen. Spock nods but his attention stays fixated on the news. The room is now filled with the warm scent of coffee, and there’s an empty cup in Spock’s hand.

Jim hesitates. He’d been expecting Spock to go into the bathroom. Jim would’ve dropped the towel and started changing by now, before all of - this. Now he’s wary of making Spock uncomfortable. Jim huddles in the corner behind his bed mattress and changes into his boxers and a broad shirt. He pulls back the covers of the blanket stiff with detergent and settles against the headrest, looking at what has arrested Spock’s attention. He realizes it’s about the Romulans, Ayel and Nero and their arrested network of conspirators.

“Spock?” Spock turns to face Jim. Jim fidgets. “Um, sorry. Could you change the channel?”

“Yes, I apologize.” Spock offers the remote to Jim before slipping into the bathroom with his change of clothes. Jim turns the television off and sets the remote aside to lie his head down on the pillow. He listens to Spock moving around in the cramped bathroom space. It sounds like he’s taking a water shower.

Spock finally opens the door. His voice is soft. “Jim? Are you asleep?” Jim turns to face him. His hair is still damp as he dries it with a small towel. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a thin blue t-shirt that reveals the entirety of Spock’s tanned arms. Jim remembers the last time he saw Spock’s bare arms, and along with it remembers brutal hands and black eyes and sharp teeth in his neck.

“Jim, would you like me to leave the bathroom light on?” Spock is moving to turn off the room’s main light.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Spock.” Spock hesitates at the use of formality, but he switches the light off and slips into his own bed. Jim can’t help noticing that he hasn’t removed his hearing aids as he lies down.

The light flooding from the cracked bathroom door is enough to illuminate Spock’s entire figure. Jim watches Spock turn from his side to lay on his back. The thin fabric of his shirt leaves nothing to the imagination. The definition of Spock's chest is unconcealed, expanding and falling with each breath. Spock tilts his head back into the pillow, baring his vulnerable neck and collarbone.

Jim pushes down his blankets a little, then hesitates. He keeps looking over at Spock, unsure if he can do what he desires. Spock’s eyes stay closed. Jim’s heartbeat escalates the more he hesitates. He knows he won’t be able to silence his thoughts unless he does this. He has to.

He slips from his bed to cross the space between them. The bed mattress gives under Jim’s weight and Spock goes rigid. Jim freezes. He hadn’t even touched him yet.

Spock turns to look up at Jim, flexing his fingers. “I apologize. I am still not used to this.”

“I think maybe I should-” Jim is about to get up off the bed again, only to be stopped by fingers pressed to his hand, preventing him from leaving. Spock tugs back the covers and spreads his arms to Jim.

Jim eases onto the very cramped bed, tucked into Spock’s enveloping embrace. Spock returns the covers back over the both of them and settles against his body. Jim lets out a shaky sigh. This temperature, Spock’s scent - he thought he’d forgotten, but now that it’s right next to him, it’s all too familiar.

“Jim,” Spock says quietly. “May I kiss you?”

Jim nods. He feels something press against his forehead. Spock withdraws from his kiss to Jim’s temple and his arms are hesitant around Jim’s body. Jim reaches up for Spock’s face, and Spock closes his eyes, eyelashes forming a shadow against his cheek. Jim traces the side of Spock’s eyebrow, his cheek, down to his neck that is cool under his touch.

Everything inside Jim is screaming at him to stop, that this is wrong, forbidden, it’ll lead to Spock losing his job, to Jim never seeing him again. It’s not until he sees the expression in Spock’s opened eyes that Jim realizes this feeling of apprehension isn’t only his own. Spock’s own conflict, his conditioning and desire to consume are clashing with each other, the echo amplifying Jim’s own fear. It’s not just the aftermath of pon farr, but years of practiced restraint between them, of imposed barriers both physically and mentally.

Jim runs a finger around the curve of Spock's ear, feeling the texture of his damp hair and the smooth material of the hearing aid. Spock makes a helpless noise in the back of his throat. Jim knows exactly what Spock is asking for through their bare skin, and he captures Spock’s lips with his own, his chest pressed over Spock’s. “Yes,” he says and kisses Spock again. “Please. Touch me.”

Spock whimpers and arches into the contact. His fingers are still reluctant as they touch the curve of Jim’s back, graze over his side and arms. “Tell me, where have I injured you?”

“It’s okay, Spock, really,” Jim says as images of the pon farr fly through his mind, unbidden. “Ah, fuck.” Jim feels mental shields go up between them, but it’s too late.

Spock exhales and rubs Jim’s shoulder. “Oh, Jim.” His hand slips under the sleeve of his shirt, stroking the bare skin of his shoulder. Then he retracts the hand to press a hesitant finger to Jim’s bare neck. Jim watches Spock, hating the wary caution that pools up in his chest. The wounds Spock’s teeth had left in Jim’s neck are completely gone, repaired by dermal regenerators, but sometimes Jim will remember the sensation and cringe away from nothingness.

Spock settles for resting his lips on a pulse point, then pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin on the side before tucking his head into the crook of Jim’s neck and shoulder. His breath makes Jim shudder, but before Spock can move away, Jim pulls him closer. “Is there anything else you want?” he asks hesitantly.

Spock’s head moves slightly. “I only wish to hold you like this.” Spock runs his hand over Jim again, a chaste touch. “I am - still in a state of disbelief at this present situation.”

“I can understand that.” Jim touches Spock’s hearing aid again. “Aren’t you going to remove those before you sleep?”

Spock hesitates. “It would require us to communicate through touch telepathy, which will only serve to strengthen the bond.”

“The bond we’ve already decided we’re not breaking?”

Spock ducks his head. “Yes.” He withdraws to get up from the bed, and Jim watches him store the hearing aids before wrapping a curious dark band around his wrist.

“What is that?”

Spock returns to the bed, attempting to settle back into the small space without pushing Jim off the mattress. “A precaution. There is still potential danger, and I must be aware of our surroundings. The wristband’s vibrations are connected to external microphones I have located in the room and building peripheries.”

Prepared as always. That's his Mr. Spock. The feeling of security within Spock's embrace is comforting. Jim’s already beginning to feel the draw of sleep.

Then he snaps awake in alarm. He remembers Ayel’s medication, the addictive little pills and dreamless sleep. “Spock, the first night we fell asleep together - were you doing something to help me fall asleep?”

“Nothing that I had been aware of.” Spock lightly rubs an extended finger over Jim’s meld points. “It may be due to the results of our bond. I have not known an instance of a Vulcan bond aiding insomnia.”

But maybe that’s what is relaxing Jim - the familiar sense of security in the back of his mind.

Spock relaxes against his body. “Sleep now, Jim.”

Jim doesn’t want to. What if he wakes up and it’s all been a dream, having Spock in his arms like this?

“Quite a long dream,” Spock murmurs, snuggling against Jim. Jim closes his eyes and thinks he’ll never be able to fall asleep.

Then he wakes up, and the sun is bright outside the window. He doesn't remember dreaming. The effects of consecutive nights spent awake must have finally taken its toll on Jim's weary body. His head feels far more alert now. Spock has moved to the other bed, curled up on top of the mattress and fast asleep. He must’ve moved while Jim was asleep so that Jim would have more space to sleep in.

Jim watches Spock until he stirs awake. There’s a trace of a smile in his eyes as he looks up at Jim through half-opened eyes.

Jim holds Spock’s hand. _Stay next time. I don’t care if I fall off the bed._

Spock huffs. “Unfortunately, I do care about your well being, and that involves you remaining on the bed and off the floor.”

Jim tugs on Spock’s hand. “We’ll manage.”

They get ready for the day together, and Jim doesn't bother to shield his body as he changes out of his sleepwear. Spock looks shy but amused by the show. They leave their belongings at the motel and travel the final hour to the T. Hassam Foundation Museum. Spock and Jim are one of the earliest visitors at the museum. Jim has his mask and hat on despite the sparse number of individuals, and Spock keeps a hat on as well.

Jim is delighted as he travels through one gallery, then another. Spock is holding his hand. He had grasped it some time after entering the museum, and he hasn’t let go since. He trails behind Jim, following him as Jim leads the slow pace through the galleries.

Jim is particularly delighted by one of the paintings with bright red butterfly-like strokes. He turns eagerly towards Spock, ready to ask him what he thinks, only to falter when he sees the tender affection Spock is looking at him with.

Jim quickly turns to look back at the artwork. Now that he’s aware of it, he can’t ignore Spock watching him every step of their way. He’s not paying attention to the artwork at all in favor of watching Jim from a very intimate distance.

Jim holds Spock’s hand a little tighter, looking at the next painting. _Spock, I need to tell you something. The second year of your contract, after - you know. When you were tortured by the Orions for ransom._

Flickers of the gruesome memory flash in Jim’s mind. Spock leans into Jim a little. Jim takes a deep breath. _I overheard you talking to your family at the hospital. I overheard Sybok describing how you’ve fallen in love with every principal you have worked for._

Spock is quiet.

_Is that true?_

Spock responds haltingly. _I have always gained satisfaction from my role as a protector. However, my brother made a valid observation. When I was younger, I mistook feelings of protectiveness as attraction, and the principal also confused feelings of safety with affection._

_And then you both ended up hurt in the end._

Spock dips his head. _It was inevitable. I resolved never to fall in love with the principal again thereafter, however the cycle only continued. Because of my particularly strong inclinations for my principal, I would go to great depths to protect them. All my siblings expressed some degree of aversion for my choice of career. I believe Sybok and Michael were relieved when I expressed harboring interest for the first time in a seemingly normal man that was not my principal, named Tiberius Wimpole._

_God. And then I went and ruined everything._

Spock follows Jim as he moves to another artwork, nuzzling his ear. _You are not to blame for the subsequent events that followed. If anything, Younger Spock still feels a great deal of guilt for the situation._

 _It wasn’t his fault,_ Jim thinks immediately.

“Exactly,” Spock says, kissing Jim’s cheek.

Jim sighs. _So it’s not so simple. Do you think you wouldn’t love me as much if I had never been your principal?_

Spock thinks for a long time. _I do not think I could answer that._

_I don’t expect you to. But god. . . The whole time I was thinking about you, and you could only believe you’d been nothing but a one night stand. It was the only conclusion._

_And how wrong I was._ Spock leans on Jim. _I did not understand the way you were acting around me - it was as if you were a jilted lover. I was willing to accept any excuse for your behavior; my own desires, my role as your personal guard, the bond. Anything but the reality that you may harbor feelings for me. Of course, you do not act in such a way to the other bodyguards and our bond was much too weak to influence any of your perceptions._

Jim turns to face Spock. _When we were in the safehouse, Spock - was that the reason why you rejected me?_

Spock looks heartbroken. _I could not consider coupling with you in a clinical fashion. It was out of the question. It was a selfish act to deny your proposition._

 _It wasn’t,_ Jim gently scolds. _It was more complicated than that. And I’ve already forgiven you._

_You may have forgiven me, Jim, but I will never forgive myself for what my own selfish decisions caused._

_Then we’ll have to agree to disagree._ Jim turns back to the artwork. He’s learned by now that Spock has no interest in the artworks, but couldn’t care less because he gets to be next to Jim the entire time.

Spock refuses to let go of Jim’s hand. He’s progressed to putting his head on Jim’s shoulder, and he rests his body weight over Jim’s back. Every time Jim tries to move to the next gallery work, Spock sticks to him, nudging and nuzzling and being extra cuddly. Jim is beginning to find his presence - a little overbearing. The only person whose attention they’ve drawn so far has been an amused little old grandpa, but Jim is reluctant to draw any more eyes.

“Spock?” Jim murmurs, prying Spock off his shoulder. Spock clings to Jim again. “Hey, Spock.” Jim finally manages to dislodge his hand from Spock, and Spock looks from his empty hand to Jim with baffled eyes. He almost looks insulted.

Jim bites his lip, adjusting his mask. On one hand, Jim’s afraid if he goes any further, he’ll lose Spock again. On the other hand - it’s not just that Spock’s being slightly overbearing right now - this chance, would he let Jim go on his own? Jim’s rarely been out in public by himself and with good reason, but he can’t imagine anything happening in this remote art museum for a couple hours. The main reason might be that Jim wants to see if Spock will let him.

“I want to go through the rest of the museum by myself,” Jim says.

Jim sees the question of _why_ on the tip of Spock’s tongue. Spock closes his mouth and takes a deep breath. The hand he’d been holding Jim’s with is clenched in a fist. “How long?”

“For the rest of the day.”

Spock is silent. “Provide a time and location to meet at.”

“How about - meet you at three in front of the gift shop?”

Spock nods very stiffly. “Very well. If you require anything of me, please contact me?”

“Through the bond?”

“I believe our communicators would be more efficient, but yes, that is also an option.”

“Oh. Right.” Jim laughs, and Spock’s face softens. Jim moves back a little. “Okay. I’ll see you at three?”

“Yes,” Spock says softly. He doesn’t walk away or break eye contact. Jim waves a little and turns to climb up the staircase to the next floor. God, he’s fucking nervous. It’s ridiculous, he’s a full grown adult, and he’s tempted to turn back and find Spock again. Jim wills himself not to flinch whenever the occasional visitor or two passes by.

Nothing happens. Time passes, and Jim’s mind eases into the unfamiliar solidarity. He eventually loses himself in the wide variety of artworks on display, reading the artists’ statements provided next to the works. Each can be translated with a couple buttons pressed on the screen.

Jim thinks to look at his watch and startles when he sees how much time has passed. He should be going down to meet Spock in twenty minutes.

Jim exits the gallery room and looks over the railing down from his vantage point on the fifth floor. The architecture of the museum is designed in a stacked ring so that the ground floor is easily visible from every floor.

Jim scans the front of the museum shop and realizes Spock is sitting on the bench in front of it. He has something brightly colored tucked under one arm. Jim pulls out his comm.

_> > hey I’m really sorry.. Can I get another hour?_

Spock pulls out his comm and reads Jim’s message. He texts back.

_> > Thank you for informing me. See you in an hour._

Jim tucks the comm away and continues to lean on the railing, watching Spock. He seems content to wait patiently, resting back against the bench. Occasionally he stretches his long legs out from under the seat before tucking them out of the way again. He rests his chin on his hand, keeping his eye on the growing crowd of visitors on the first floor.

Jim doesn’t think he can focus on the gallery works anymore. He makes his way down the stairs, and his heart does something in his chest when he reaches the bottom step and he can see Spock perking up at the sight of him.

He doesn’t quite run into Spock's arms, but he’s not walking sedately, either.

Spock chuckles as Jim collides into his open arms. Jim looks at his broad smile with awe. He had forgotten about that dimple. The brightly colored object Spock’s been holding is a curious red butterfly plush toy. Spock shyly offers the plush to Jim. “You appeared to enjoy the artwork that inspired this product.”

‘

He had. He loves the plush, too. Jim presses his masked face to Spock's cheek before hugging the plush to his body. Spock guides him out of the exitway. “It had not been an hour since you sent your last text. Did you enjoy the artworks?”

“I did.” Jim resumes holding Spock’s hand and confesses, “For the last half hour, I was just watching you.”

Spock blinks. “Where were you located?”

“Up on the fifth floor. I saw you waiting.”

“I see. I was unaware.”

Spock’s smiling with his eyes, and Jim feels like he is radiating happiness. “Should we find food?”

Spock kisses Jim’s cheek. “I am amenable to the suggestion.”

They find an early dinner in a restaurant with a light atmosphere. Spock isn't hungry, but he eats a small meal and sips water as he watches Jim eat.

They return to their motel room before it gets dark and lie in bed together not quite doing anything. Jim plays on his PADD and Spock dozes lightly with his head in Jim’s lap.

Jim redirects his attention when Spock gets up and goes to his bag. “I will take a shower first,” Spock explains before closing the bathroom door behind him.

“Oh.” Showering alone again. Jim had thought - well.

His comm pings, and Jim goes to check it. It’s a message from Winona.

_> > Taking into account the last few weeks, you have proven to me what I had been reluctant to admit for far too long. I decided to reread your cafe business plans. . ._

Jim’s eyes grow wider as he continues to read the message. He scrambles to remove his laptop from his bag and bounce back onto Spock’s bed, opening it and entering the password.

Jim is still looking through the approved documentation when Spock comes in from the bathroom, releasing hot steam and air. “Jim?”

Jim looks up at Spock with unsuppressed glee. “Winona’s letting me buy that street corner shophouse in the Beta Quadrant. I’m getting my cafe. I’m finally moving out.”

Spock rests a hand on Jim’s shoulder with a fond smile. His hair is damp again. “That’s wonderful.”

Jim’s so excited. He returns his attention to his laptop. He’ll have to talk to his accountant when he gets back to the mansion. Where’s the table he made with the price comparisons of paint for the main room?

Suddenly Jim is aware of Spock crawling over his legs and laptop like a fucking overgrown cat so that he is face to face with Jim. “Jim,” Spock says. “Did you hear what I asked you?”

Jim blinks. “No?”

“Are there any important documents you must save?”

“Um, no, it’s all set to autosave-” Spock slaps down the laptop screen and stifles Jim’s protest with a deep kiss that goes on and on. Jim and Spock are both panting for breath by the time Spock lets up. “Shit,” Jim manages to say. His hands are firmly planted on Spock’s hips.

Spock scowls and takes the laptop from Jim to set it on the table nearby. “No more work in bed.”

A breathless laugh escapes Jim. “Okay, okay. Sorry.” He grabs Spock’s collar and drags him into another kiss, thrusting up into him. Spock groans into the contact, spreading his thighs wider. There’s not enough skin and too much clothing. Jim’s pants go, and then his shirt. Jim’s hands dip behind Spock’s shirt to stroke up the muscle of his back, and his fingers catch on rough skin.

His kissing falters. “Spock? What’s this?”

Spock impatiently pushes Jim back. “Nothing of importance. Jim-” Jim’s pulled up Spock’s shirt to his armpits, exposing the entirety of his torso. When Jim tries to turn Spock around to get a look, Spock resists with his superior strength.

Jim grunts. “You are - god, stop it. You’re gonna knock both of us off the bed.” Spock is squirming to press more insistently into Jim, clearly trying to distract him.

“Spock.” Jim stops and looks up at him. “It’s one thing if you don’t want to show me. Fine. I can accept that. For now. But if it’s only because you’re trying to protect me - you’re not doing anything by hiding this.”

“Mr. K-” Spock presses his lips together. “Jim. It is not a pleasant sight to witness.”

Jim presses a lingering kiss to Spock’s nipple, and Spock gasps softly. Jim turns his attention to the other one, using his hands to caress Spock’s hip bones. Jim encourages Spock to switch positions with him so that Spock is the one lying with his back to the mattress. His shirt is still bunched up above his chest.

Jim straddles Spock’s hips, kneeling above his body and he swirls his tongue around Spock's prone nipple. Spock pushes up into the touch, insistent. Jim gently pinches the other nipple as he sucks on the other one, and he feels Spock's built up tension melting away.

Jim laves his tongue one last time before tilting his head to look Spock in the eye. “Will you turn around for me?”

Jim closely watches Spock’s shifting expression. Finally Spock closes his eyes. He heaves himself to his stomach, and Jim startles at the severity of the scars criss-crossing across his back. “Spock, oh god. When did this happen?”

Spock remains motionless under Jim's hands. “The Orions,” Jim guesses. Spock doesn’t reply. God, it must be. They’d really gone to town on Spock with their whips. Jim remembers the blood-drenched back of Spock’s white collared shirt with graphic vivacity.

Spock’s voice snaps Jim to the present. “The regenerators were able to mend most of the damage, however some of the wounds were inflicted by a cyber scourge. The burns were left untreated too long.”

Jim’s breath shudders and he presses his forehead to Spock’s back. His hands travel up Spock’s spine, under the shirt that is still trapped under Spock’s arms. Spock willingly raises his arms so that Jim can remove his shirt, and the scars extend all the way up there, good god. They form tendrils of marred, healed tissue in several directions. Jim reaches under Spock to unfasten Spock’s pants, and slips them and his underwear off all at once.

Spock trembles as Jim runs his hands over the entirety of Spock’s exposed back, feeling every inch of his body, down to his calves and back up again. Spock's voice is strained. “Jim, please let me touch you.”

“Yes.” The moment the word of consent leaves Jim's lips, he finds himself pressed back against the mattress. Spock hovers above him, his breaths unsteady, close to tears. Jim feels the tight shields of his mind collapsing, he feels the fear, sees the phaser gun that had been pointed at Jim's head.

“I could not do anything.” Spock mouths reverently at Jim’s forehead. “I almost lost you that day.”

“You're the one they tortured, though. All these scars because of me.” Jim holds Spock’s hand and brushes a thumb over the faint scarring there.

“I wanted nothing more than to reach out.” Spock is beginning to rock on his groin, and the friction from the thin fabric of Jim’s underwear makes Jim gasp. “That day in the office, after being reinstated for duty. I yearned to touch you like never before.”

“Then why didn't you?”

Spock's gaze flashes dark with pain and hunger. “I did not know if I could stop myself from continuing until I had pressed myself into every inch of your body.”

“Oh.” They’ve been pressed nearly naked to one another for the last couple minutes, but only now does Jim’s cheeks feel like they are burning up. “Well. You can touch me now.”

Spock's face goes soft. “Yes.” He helps Jim remove his underwear, kissing Jim as he presses his body down to his again. Jim gasps as Spock grinds against him again, a slow, steady pace. He finds his hands reaching up to rest on Spock’s back, tracing Spock’s scars. Jim slips a hand between them to rub over Spock's thigh, keeping his touch gentle over the scar tissue there. It is the most prominent remnant of their morbid experience, a reminder of Spock’s heartbreakingly fierce loyalty.

Jim feels something wet against his cheek and looks wide eyed at Spock. Spock has stopped moving to bury his face into the side of Jim's head. “Spock?” Jim doesn't know to remove his hand or not. “Hey, sweetheart?”

Spock shifts up a little, and a drop falls from his lashes. Jim soothes the salty tears with his lips, but it seems to only serve to make Spock’s silent tears fall faster.

“Spock.” Jim is at a loss. He doesn’t know where to put his hands.

Spock closes his eyes. “I had never thought I would be able to receive comfort from you in this manner.”

Jim returns his gentle touch to Spock’s thigh. “Am I - is this too much?” Spock shakes his head wordlessly, arching into Jim.

Jim flips them so that Spock is trapped under his arms, and he kisses down the hair of his chest, over the warmth of his sheath, before pressing his cheek to Spock’s scarred thigh. Spock blindly reaches out with one hand, and Jim interlaces his fingers in his.

Jim dips his tongue in the space between Spock’s parted legs, and Spock pushes up into the stimulation. “Always so good for me,” Jim whispers, hearing Spock’s breathing become more rapid. Jim strokes between the folds with two fingers, his tongue flicking at Spock’s inner sheath between the digits, and Spock whimpers incoherently, his hips straining to remain still. His arousal is becoming thick on Jim’s tongue and bottom lip. Jim continues to taste Spock, but as Spock’s reactions become less reserved, his inner slit stays tightly closed.

Jim removes his mouth to tease at the sheathed cock with his fingers. “Not opening up for me?”

The haze of lust in Spock’s eyes dissipates as he looks warily at Jim. “I am attempting to be considerate.”

“It makes me think you’re not aroused.” Jim replaces his fingers with his lips again, and Spock makes a soft sound. “Or do I need to tease some more for you to stop trying to control it?”

“Perhaps at another time.” Spock lets go of Jim’s hand to push away his chin. He uses his own slick to stroke Jim’s erection. Feeling it fully hard, he spreads his legs and tries to guide Jim forward.

“Wait.” Jim stops Spock’s wrist. “Let’s do that another time. I want to do something else.”

Spock blinks at Jim, his thighs still wide apart. Jim takes a deep breath. “I want you in me.” Spock stiffens and sits up from under Jim, who keeps his hand on Spock’s wrist. “I want your fingers inside of me.”

Spock stares at Jim's hand, silent as he probes Jim's thoughts. “You are certain about this.”

“I am.” Spock stills as Jim takes his hand still coated with Spock’s slick, and touches the tip of his finger to the pad of the thumb. “I’ve thought about these hands a lot.” Jim laps at Spock’s hand with gradually insistent pressure, focusing on Spock’s rapidly declining composure. Jim slips the entirety of Spock’s middle finger into his mouth and uses his teeth to graze at the skin, and Spock actually curses aloud, his entire body jerking. It’s the fastest Jim’s ever seen Spock coming absolutely undone.

Jim doesn’t stop flicking his tongue over the skin of Spock’s broad hand until Spock is sweating and gasping and the space between his legs is drenched with slick. Jim finally removes his mouth. “Yeah? What do you think?”

Spock looks conflicted. “Are you completely certain, Jim?”

“I am,” Jim says firmly.

Spock’s voice is almost a whisper. “Aren’t you afraid?”

“I - I can’t deny I’m a little scared,” Jim finally admits. “But I want this, Spock. I know you won’t hurt me. So touch me. Please.”

Spock’s eyes take on a hard, resolute glint. He escapes from under Jim and goes into the bathroom. “We will need lube. And the dermal regenerator along with its wand attachment must be available on standby. If you are uncomfortable in any way shape or form you must inform me immediately.”

“Spock,” Jim says as Spock brings the supplies back to their mattress.

Spock interrupts him. “Perhaps it would be wisest to obtain a spare power cell for the dermal regenerator before we proceed.”

Jim’s voice is soft. “Spock.”

Spock snaps, “Mr. Kirk, the last time I penetrated you, I was unaware of what occurred, only informed of the terrible things that had happened in hindsight. Forgive me if you find my precautions excessive.”

He sags limp against Jim’s body as Jim pulls him into a tight embrace. Jim kisses Spock’s shivering shoulder and then his neck. “We don't have to do this. Not tonight, not ever. I don’t want to frighten you.”

“That is what I should be saying to you.”

For a moment, they just sit together, matching each other’s breaths. Jim eases down to kiss Spock. “I'll be fine if you are. Give me the lube and we'll take it slowly.”

Spock waits for Jim to arrange him, and they end up in the same position of Spock lying back as Jim straddles him. Jim slicks his own hand with lube and reaches behind him. He can’t remember the last time he touched himself like this. Probably a long time before Spock had gone into pon farr in the safehouse.

Jim shakes his head roughly and bears down on one finger. Spock braces Jim's hips with outstretched hands, watching as Jim progresses to a second finger, taking his time easing into the unfamiliar sensation. He catches his prostate as he pushes his fingers deeper and gasps sharply. His erection is beginning to leak, and it catches the cool motel air. Jim groans as he adds a third finger, tilting his chin back.

Spock runs his hands over Jim’s legs, his sides. He is saying something, it’s not in any language Jim knows but he understands exactly what it means through their contact.

Jim removes his hand and leans further over Spock. Spock kisses Jim, chaste and tender, and Jim hears the click of the bottle of lube. Jim tries to relax as Spock circles the entrance with a single finger. He doesn’t push in, waiting for Jim’s tension to fade before slipping inside him. He finds the prostate almost instantly, rubbing the walls with careful pressure.

“Fuck, fuck,” Jim hisses, riding the sparks of pleasure up his spine. “Spock, please.”

Spock retracts his hand to carefully press two fingers into him. His fingers are so long, effortlessly massaging his prostate with precise gestures. Jim doesn’t need more, he feels himself rapidly approaching orgasm as he gasps and pushes against Spock’s hand. He can feel Spock’s own building climax caught in a feedback loop between their minds, echoing through the bond. Spock’s voice trembles. “I will not last very long like this.”

Jim reaches down and feels where his skin is stretched around Spock’s fingers deep inside him, and it’s enough for him to tip over the edge. He clenches around Spock with a soft cry, and Spock’s movements stutter.

“Jim,” Spock whispers, and his climax follows Jim’s. Jim’s forehead is rested against Spock’s, and their breaths mingle as they gasp for air. Jim noses at the tacky streaks over Spock’s cheeks, the remnants of the tears he had shed.

Spock removes his hand with care, easing Jim so that they were lying on the bed together, wrapped in each other’s arms. Jim barely registers the feeling of soft lips against his cheek. The enveloping sensation of the warm afterglow dominates everything else.

They must’ve dozed off, because Jim finds himself waking up when Spock slowly removes himself from their embrace. Jim watches with eyes half-opened as Spock goes into the bathroom and removes his hearing aids. He takes a wet towel and returns to wipe Jim off, taking extra care around the features of his face. Jim listens to Spock taking a sonic shower before he finally returns to their bed, and Jim moves the blankets to wrap around them. Spock kisses Jim and rests his head against the pillow.

Now that he’s awake, Jim doesn’t feel like closing his eyes right away again. He watches Spock fall asleep again, his chest moving as he breathes. He looks so vulnerable without the normal controls of wakefulness masking his expression. His face is peaceful, almost younger. His grey hair is difficult to see in the dim light. Jim wonders dimly if Spock had ever studied his own expressions every night Jim managed to slip into unconsciousness under Spock’s watchful stance. His heart physically hurts, how much he wants to protect Spock, to shower him with affection held back for so long.

Eventually Jim falls asleep feeling Spock's steady heartbeat throughout his being.

Jim wakes up before Spock early next morning. The sun hasn’t risen yet. He stretches luxuriously, feeling Spock's bare skin against his. Spock shifts a little but continues to doze peacefully.

Jim kisses the corner of Spock's closed eye and slips out of bed to go use the bathroom. He takes a quick sonic shower and brushes his teeth before going through their bags to find some clothing. Jim raises an eyebrow at Spock's not particularly subtle stash of weapons, but he keeps looking until he finds one of Spock's delightful oversized sweaters and immediately slips it on. He runs his hands over the fabric over his arms, a helpless grin spreading across his face. He could laugh aloud, he's so happy right now.

Instead, Jim burrows back into bed next to Spock, nuzzling into his chest. Jim rests his head on the pillow and watches Spock's serene face. Quiet hours tick by.

Jim feels Spock wake up before Spock opens his eyes. His warm gaze focuses on Jim, then drifts down. “You are wearing my sweater.”

Jim wiggles into Spock's touch. “Mmm. And not much else.”

Spock acquiesces to a kiss and then pauses, scanning Jim’s expression. “You derive an unexpected level of pleasure from wearing my clothing.”

It's only one of his deepest desires made reality, but Jim doesn't mention that.

Spock kisses Jim before stroking up his thigh. “You may wear my clothing whenever you'd like.” He gets up to go into the bathroom. “Although I had been anticipating that you would wear the other sweater.”

“What?” Spock's already taken his hearing aids and disappeared into the bathroom, and the sound of running water fills the air. Jim hesitantly makes his way back to the bags and then he sees it - the fluffy pink sweater he had first seen Spock in. He pulls it out, and something is weighing down one of the pockets. It's small and shaped like a box.

Jim freezes. “Spock.”

Spock spits into the sink and puts down his toothbrush. His face is beginning to darken with a deep blush, contrasting with the color of the bathrobe he'd put on. “I apologize in advance - the price range of most of the brands that you are accustomed to is far from my financial capabilities. I hope you will find it satisfactory nonetheless.”

Jim removes the small box from the sweater pocket. His voice trembles. “Spock.” He can't bring himself to open it.

And then Spock is there, grasping Jim's hand and the box between his own hands. “Yes,” he says. He's on one knee, and he's opened the box with its matching rings, simple and unassuming in design. “It is exactly what you think.”

Jim looks from the beautiful rings to that beautiful, worn face. “And if I say no?”

Spock's hands are trembling where they hold the ring aloft, but his voice is steady. “I will find other work elsewhere and ask again when you are ready. But I know now what I must do. I will wait for you, Jim. It is my wish to spend my life with you.” Spock hesitates. “Although I admit, I cannot imagine myself working elsewhere in another role.”

“Neither can I,” Jim confesses. He recalls Winona and George’s strange attitudes before Jim and Spock had left the house. “You already told my parents.”

“Yes. I have already spoken with them. I believe you can infer their feelings on the matter, but they will not oppose the choice we make.”

“Good,” Jim says. “I would’ve said yes either way.”

“You must consider carefully,” Spock warns with a trembling voice. “My occupation will not change, along with the danger I face and the roles we share. The pon farr will still happen every seven years, and I must force you to submit to my madness.”

Jim swallows down the whisper of fear at the mention of the Vulcan mating cycle. “But the pon farr won’t ever be as bad as it was then, right? Prolonging the blood fever, spending pon farr alone, not to mention the libido hormones - none of it will ever happen again.”

“You are correct, but the power imbalance remains. You are not Vulcan. You are a human.”

“And I also love you,” Jim says plainly. “I want to share everything with you, good and bad. We’re going to get through this together.”

Spock falters. “Jim-”

“Are you gonna put that ring on me, or will I have to do it myself?” Spock shakes his head, a smile spreading across his lips as he stands. After he's slipped the ring on, he kisses Jim's finger. Jim returns the gesture, basking in the quiet thrill of Spock wearing a matching ring on his hand.

The moment Jim touches his lips to the warm little band around Spock's ring finger, he feels something like a spark and the warm buzz in the back of his mind amplifies tenfold. Jim knows what it is immediately without being told. “That's the bond,” he says, awestruck.

Spock cradles Jim's cheek, brushing his thumb over Jim's meld points. His eyes are wet with tears again. “Indeed. It is.”

Jim slips his arms around Spock and Spock rests his head on Jim's shoulder. The bond feels both new and completely familiar at the same time. It feels like Spock. Jim closes his eyes, breathing in. “You're finally mine now.”

“I have always been yours,” Spock whispers. 

_Seven years later_

“You did not have to leave the party early for my sake,” Spock says amicably as he follows Jim through the door, taking off his shoes.

“I really only wanted to see Uhura and Sulu, make sure they’re doing well.” Jim pecks Spock’s lips and grins as he sets aside his own shoes. “Cuddling in bed with you’s more fun, what do you think?”

Spock’s eyes crescent as Jim helps remove his parka. “I watched you checking the loaves in the proofer oven before climbing upstairs. I know where your priorities are, Mr. Kirk.” Jim laughs and buries his forehead in Spock’s neck. He can feel Spock’s radiant satisfaction.

Because of Jim’s business, they rarely go on extended trips beyond the boundaries of the Beta Quadrant they are in. Jim had deigned to allow his apprentice baker to assist in taking care of the cafe while he was away, a cheerful and wholly likeable young man with curly hair and a Russian accent.

It’s been peaceful living without the foreboding anticipation of things to happen due to his prominence as Winona Kirk’s son. No one recognizes him in a uniform and apron with a wide smile and easy laugh. Granted, there have been some seeking Jim out despite the distance and obscurity of his new residence, mostly devoted fans, but they create little nuisance, usually moving on once they have sated their curiosity.

Spock changes the television channel as Jim sits on the couch wrapped in a blanket. Spock rests his head in Jim’s lap and checks his comm. “We received a missed call from Sybok.”

“We’ll have to call him tomorrow morning when the timezone’s right. If he’s calling to show us his kids’ art projects again, I swear. . .” Jim’s wandering fingers find the bandage on Spock’s forehead, the mark of a thwarted assassination attempt on Spock’s life.

Spock huffs in amusement. “We both know it was a minor malfunction in the espresso machine that the company has now recalled the products for.”

“Assassination attempt,” Jim repeats firmly. “Unforgivable.”

Spock shakes his head and takes Jim’s hand to press a kiss to the palm. The television program comes to an end, and the next one starts.

“God.” Jim groans as he stretches out his back. “I think I want to go to bed early.”

“That would be wise.” Spock sits up and helps Jim to his feet. “You have had a long day.”

They prepare for bed in tandem. Jim removes his pants and tosses them into the cycler. Spock unbuttons his shirt and pulls off his undershirt, leaving his hair disheveled and sticking up in every direction. Jim chuckles and smooths down the worst of it before mussing it up again. Spock raises an eyebrow. “Jim.”

“You look cute, Mr. Spock. Fluffy.” Jim pokes Spock's nipple with a playful smirk. Spock mouths at his neck in retaliation, and Jim giggles. Spock doesn’t use teeth. He never does, even though Jim had never asked.

The playful touching turns into kissing, and then much more heated kissing with some groping in the mix. Jim tilts his head away, stroking Spock’s bare chest. His voice is low, almost a purr. “As much as I’d like to tie you down and tease you until you’re sweating and struggling and begging for me to fuck you, we already did that last night and I’m actually tired.”

Spock chuckles, but the laughter drains and his face becomes sober. Even though Jim already knows what’s been weighing on Spock’s mind, he asks aloud, “What's wrong, babe?”

Those eyes full of worry focus on Jim. “I will be entering pon farr within the next six days. I cannot help but harbor a deep concern for your impending well being. I cannot promise that I will not injure you again.”

Jim sighs and holds Spock’s hands in his, rubbing a thumb over the texture of Spock’s ring. “We’ll be ready to handle it.”

Spock nods, but he doesn’t look convinced in the least. It’s been like this for the last month, and Jim knows it’s a serious affair, but he’s not afraid. That might be what scares Spock the most. But how could Jim be scared, knowing Spock will do everything in his power to make sure they are prepared? Jim knows they’ll be alright this time.

Spock removes his hearing aids and they take a quick shower together. Jim changes into one of Spock’s sweaters, and he counts the seconds in Vulcan as he brushes his teeth next to Spock. Spock is wearing a souvenir shirt from the Hassam Museum, and the loose trousers are a gift from George and Winona for his most recent birthday.

Spock leaves the bathroom light on as he follows Jim into bed. Jim’s already settled under the plush covers, and he hums when Spock tucks at his side. Spock nuzzles Jim’s collarbone before turning to kiss his temple. Jim rests his fingers to Spock's meld points and murmurs, “You know, right? We’ll be okay. Trust me.”

“Yes.” Spock’s eyelashes are against Jim’s cheek, familiar and feather light. “I will.”

Jim kisses Spock’s forehead, feeling the reciprocating purr of content. _Goodnight, Spock._

_Goodnight, my dear._

Jim closes his eyes and instantly falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! (or reaching the bottom of the page ^^) I appreciate all kudos and any form of comments! especially the ones w emoji spam 💖💖✨✨
> 
> If you liked this story, [you might like this series about an AU where a much older Jim that has long lost Spock Prime encounters a strange young Vulcan with Spock Prime's name and face (I illustrated this one!)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21085949)


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